Different kind of courage
by jibber59
Summary: AU: ATF -moved out of the old west and into the new: When an undercover op goes bad, the Team may never be the same again.
1. Chapter 1

_This is something written long before I knew such a thing as fanfiction existed. It was purely for my own satisfaction. Once I discovered the FanFiction world I became a dedicated (some might say committed!) Leverage writer, but a reader of numerous Fandoms. Recently I found some old notebooks with long forgotten stories, some of which deserved to be forgotten. Some, though, contained stories that began to nibble away at my brain. When I discovered the AU world of ATF in the Magnificent 7 site, this Old West story was resurrected from life support, sent for plastic surgery and then slowly nurtured back to health. I don't know if anyone is even checking out M7 for new stories, but I can't help myself – MUST PUBLISH!_

 ** _(Insert usual disclaimers here – never mind, you already know them!)_**

This was getting old in a hurry, Chris Larabee thought as he slammed down the phone. He swore if he heard one more excuse, one more justification he was going to shoot the messenger. Sure, there'd be a lot of paperwork, but it would be worth it. One of his men was missing, and the powers that be didn't seem to give a damn. Course not. In this case the missing man was Ezra, and the powers that be were the FBI. Not exactly an ideal relationship in the best of times, and this was far from the best of times.

He never should have agreed to let Standish be "borrowed" by the bureau. Sure, he was clearly the right man for the job. The target – Charles Walker – was a southern gambler, creating an instant affinity with their own man. It was, for all appearances, a straight forward infiltration job. Find a basis for some bargaining charges and let the big shots negotiate a deal with the target. Success bringing him down would lead them to a much bigger operation, covering everything from illegal gambling and prostitution rings to gun running. The problem was putting Ezra back into the FBI, even on a temporary basis.

There was too much history there, and most of it wasn't good. There were still a lot of agents who chose to believe the rumors of corruption and fraud that had caused him to leave, and they felt he had no place in any branch of law enforcement. The fact there wasn't a shred of proof, and the fact he'd been cleared by an internal investigation didn't change that opinion. But when it came to undercover work, Standish was the best – anywhere. Even the FBI admitted that, however grudgingly. It took some fast talking, something Ezra was frighteningly proficient at, but Chris finally yielded.

The other members of the team were perplexed by the undercover agent's willingness, even eagerness to go back to those who had so callously abandoned him.

"I assure you gentlemen," he had informed them, "the agents with whom I shall be associated for this endeavor are not in the same category as those to whom you refer. Besides, I have been abandoned, as you so dramatically elect to describe it, by far more traitorous hands in my life. The Bureau really is decidedly amateur by comparison." None of them chose to respond to the reference to his family. "I shall be back amongst you for our next poker night before you even have the opportunity to replenish your savings from the last one."

"Nope." Buck shook his head. "Not playing cards with you for a while. Need the money for a weekend escape with a lovely new neighbour."

JD snorted. "I've seen her Buck – might as well give your money to Ezra. She is SO out of your league." Young Mr. Dunne just grinned as his partner tossed him a dirty look.

That had been over three weeks ago. The first two weeks of the operation had gone well. One of the conditions of Ezra's new job was that the ATF be kept completely in the loop. And at first, that hadn't been a problem. The Agent in charge – Holliman – actually seemed like a decent enough guy. No snide comments about working outside the bureau, no cracks about Ezra's history. They'd been given daily reports without fail, even when the report was only telling them there was nothing new. Additionally, he had maintained contact through prearranged drops and calls. There was a long established protocol of ways to keep each other advised when any of them were on a job. For 13 days all of the indicators signalled that everything was on track.

On the 14th day, Vin drove by the offices where Ezra was undercover. The car was backed into the parking space, and the driver's window was left halfway down. He was on the phone to Chris before reaching the end of the block with a simple message; "Something's wrong." Window halfway down meant there might be trouble, car backed in meant he might need a rapid escape option.

Calls to the bureau were ineffective. The standard "everything is on track" was suddenly much less reassuring, and Chris had been unable to talk directly with Ezra's 'handler'. He'd left messages with every contact he knew. The next three days brought nothing but stalls. The car remained parked exactly where it had been. On the 4th day it was gone. On the 5th, it was found abandoned a the side of the road in a less than desirable neighbourhood, stripped by local hoods of anything valuable, which effectively compromised any prints or leads they might find.

Despite his position in the ATF Judge Travis was not on the FBI's list of people with a 'need to know'. He was equally frustrated in his inability to use his status and influence as a retired justice get any information. By the time Larabee was slamming his phone down for the last time the atmosphere in the office had sunk as low as it ever had been. Chris kept his bad mood fully charged and stormed out of his office into the bull pen. "Somebody tell me they've got something – you guys are supposed to be the best." He focused his glare on their youngest member and resident computer expert.

JD forced himself to look his boss in the face. "There's nothing to trace. No street cameras near the building, and nothing were Ez's car was dropped off. No credit cards, phone usage, bank access. Under any alias we have. Nothing. I'm still trying but…"

"Trying isn't working Dunne!" He turned to Vin – "what about forensics on the car?"

"Lots of prints, none of them leading us anywhere. Same for any trace evidence."

"Great! And I am assuming you two have had no luck tailing Walker and company?" The glare had transferred to Nathan and Buck.

Buck slid his chair back and stood. "They've made no moves any different than what they've been doing. And without a warrant we can't get…"

"Don't need to hear what we can't do. I need to know what we can. So glad you all are on top of your game."

"Shut up Chris." Vin spoke quietly, striking in contrast to the shouting that had filled the room. "Yelling ain't gonna help.

Josiah looked up as well. "We're all scared." Chris looked over at the big man in the corner. The worry lines were deeper on his face than usual. For reasons none could explain, Sanchez and Ezra had bonded almost like father and son, and the sadness in his eyes was testimony to just how much this was hurting. Likewise, Vin's status as team loner had been matched by the gambler when he'd joined with them a year earlier, giving them their own unique connection. Looking at the rest of his team he saw the same quiet dread in their eyes that he felt.

Chris tilted his head back, closed his eyes and tried to take a calming breath. The sense of dread almost knocked him off his feet. "I'm a jackass." Some of the others smiled slightly, knowing this was as close to an apology as their leader came. "And I'm worried" he added quietly.

"We aren't going to find him in time – are we?" JD almost whispered the question.

"I don't know JD. I just don't know."

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Nathan sat behind the wheel of the non-descript pick-up he'd borrowed from the ATF lot. His own car wouldn't have stood out any more than this did, but he'd used it a couple of days already, and didn't want it seen there again. Besides, the windows were better tinted on this vehicle. Being a black man just sitting around in this neighbour might be enough to draw attention, so anything to negate that was worth the effort.

He was sufficiently focused on the target he almost failed to notice when the passenger door began to notice. His hand tightened slightly around the gun in his pocket, letting go quickly as he recognized Buck's hat before seeing the man's face.

"Sneaking up is a really good way to get yourself shot friend." "So is not paying attention to your surroundings." Buck smiled back at him. He nodded toward the building. "Nothing new?"

"Feds went in a while back, like they told Chris they would. Came out about 30 minutes later looking pissed off."

"Damn."

After a week with no contact the FBI had finally been convinced by Judge Travis and several of his friends in high places (exhausting almost every favour owed to him) that the covert end of this investigation was useless. Clearly with Standish missing for this long the operation was blown. The best anyone could hope for now was to find a lead to where they were holding him, or, as was feared but not spoken, where they had disposed of his body. Search warrants had been obtained for a number of locations, but based on Nathan's observation, were less than productive.

"Damn is putting it lightly. How's Chris doin'?"

Buck sighed at the question. "Hardly comes out of the office. Stays there late too. No bottles in the trash though, so I think – hell – hope he's holding it together. Don't think the phone is gonna last much longer though."

"Is he givin' up?"

"Yes and no. He won't quit till we get an answer, but I think he figures it's too late for the answer we want. He's never gonna forgive himself for letting Ez take on the job you know."

"Yeah. Vin and Josiah are right there with him on that. And JD's just plain lost."

"Good thing the two of us are so cool with it all." Buck said, looking at the exhausted and bloodshot eyes of his teammate.

"Yeah – we're tough as nails."

Buck looked over to the parking lot again. "Wasn't Walker's car there yesterday?"

"Yeah – so?"

"And the day before?"

"Your point?"

"It ain't moved. It's parked crooked. Was yesterday too." Nathan arched an eyebrow in question. "So," Buck continued "why is he staying put?"

"Well, he either he hasn't been there…or someone is driving him around and wants it to look like he's not going out."

"You think someone's pissed with him for bringing the Feds in?"

"Would have to be from the next level up – Walker's the big shot around here. Wouldn't we have heard something if there was – how would Ezra put it – 'dissension in the ranks'? No, I think it's more likely he doesn't want anyone to know he is out and about."

"Whatever it is, it's the first sign of anything to work with. So, the question is - what do we do about it?"

Nathan reached for the phone. "We run it by Chris. At least it will give him something new to think on."

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The ring of surveillance around Walker's office surpassed that of any operation any of them could remember. ATF, FBI and local law enforcement had been recruited to the cause, and the combination of manpower and equipment was staggering. ATF Team 7 was front and centre in co-ordination of the activities, and they all sat in a highly charged state of anticipation. There was no chatter on the comms. The occasional update was heard reporting on comings and goings, but the usual small talk was totally absent.

The meeting to assign locations earlier in the day had been, to say the very least, tense. Most of the FBI agents looked like they would rather be anywhere else, and some appeared genuinely irate as they accepted their assignments. The team could care less about hurt feelings and perceived slights. They had one goal in mind, and given the cock-up this operation had become, they were not about to hand it back to the men responsible. Not taking any chances, Larabee made sure it was understood that any failure to take this task seriously would be met with unpleasant consequences. No one doubted that for a minute.

Now, hours later, they continued to watch, wait and hope.

"Movement at the back. Damn – Chris there's an exit here." Josiah watched as two men came out from behind what appeared to be a stack of loading pallets. Watching closely, he and Nathan could see the pile of lumber moved together, clearly camouflaging a door. "It's Walker and one of his goons. Getting into a dark green SUV. Windows tinted. Can't make the plates yet."

A tracking grid was set in motion, and within minutes multiple vehicles were playing hide and seek with the target, making sure to remain inconspicuous on the trek. It took almost 20 anxious minutes until Walker turned into a warehouse near the docks. JD ran the address, coming up with nothing more than a list of corporations, but at least it was a starting point. There would be time for more later.

In a perfectly executed stealth operation, the teams surrounded the building. Vin Tanner took his place at the fire escape, pointing out cameras to his teammates in the process. Scurrying across the roof in silence, he approached the first skylight and was able to position himself for a view of the interior. Giving his eyes a moment to adjust to the gloomy space he scanned, disappointed at the emptiness. Quickly he moved to the far side, looking in again at an area previously shielded from view. It was all he could do to keep his voice and actions under control, and his body from reacting to scene.

"Ez is in there." The tension in his voice made him almost impossible to hear. Most of the team had difficulty not shouting for sheer joy and relief, but Chris had heard the unspoken 'but'.

"Vin?" he whispered back.

"I ain't sure if he's alive. Damn Chris, I almost hope he's not."

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 ** _TBC_**


	2. Chapter 2

Walker strolled calmly into the rear office of the warehouse. This whole matter had turned out to be far more problematic than he had anticipated. While Standish had proven to be somewhat entertaining, his stubborn streak quickly grew tiresome. A week of what could only be described as very intensive questioning yielded nothing new. The man hadn't even admitted to being ATF, despite the lack of debate on that particular issue. Walker's real source within the FBI had taken his sweet time notifying the thug of the traitor in their midst, so they needed to find out what, if anything, had been compromised.

Standish was either incredibly stupid, remarkably resilient or the biggest masochist Walker had ever met. Since it was obvious from the smooth way Standish had maintained his cover that he wasn't stupid, and no one was tough enough to withstand the punishment his interrogators so enjoyed inflicting, Walker could only wonder if the last option was true. If so, it really was a shame he was going to have to kill the agent. They could have learned to benefit from each other's twisted kinks.

The room he entered had the stale smell of sweat, blood, waste, and – most pleasing to his preference – fear. Looking around the evidence of the week's activities was everywhere. Blood stains, vomit, human waste, tattered shreds of clothing. The workbench was littered with their playthings. Whips, straps, knives, pipes of every size and description. A small branding tool lay on the floor, discarded after its last use. The weapon of the moment was a small taser, adjusted to be just a few volts shy of lethal potency.

He stopped in front of the man in question, taking in the work his men had done. There was scarcely an inch on him that had not be cut, burned, whipped or beaten. Long since stripped of bloody tattered clothing, he currently hung from ropes tied to a hook in the beam above. They cut into his raw wrists supporting his weight. His feet barely grazed the floor, but even if he'd been able to stand, the broken bones in his legs and feet would have made the act unbearable.

"Well Mr. Standish, it appears our time together is about to come to an unfortunate conclusion."

"Go to hell." It had been the same phrase Ezra had been mumbling for days now, the only words to pass his lips. The articulate denials and witty defiance had faded as his body weakened. But the resolve had remained.

"Oh, I'm sure I will. But you'll be getting there long before I. It is a shame you know. A southern gentleman such as yourself, clever, devious. We could have been great friends. Yet you choose the noble path, even when offered all anyone could have wanted. If only your reputation from your days with the Bureau had been accurate. I do believe we would have been a formidable pair."

"Go to hell."

Walker turned his back and gave his orders. "Dispose of the body in such a way that they will find it and know exactly what happened, without ever being able to prove it. I want the Feds to know there is a cost for challenging me. Oh, and cut his tongue out. A little symbolism is always appreciated by the profilers at the Bureau."

"Why now boss? As long as he's breathing we can keep working on getting information."

"Yes, but they searched the offices today. When it gets to the point they are getting warrants, the time has come to ensure the evidence is disposed of. Sadly, this party is over." He turned back, raising his gun to Ezra's face. Making sure the agent was fully aware of what was about to happen, he smiled and placed his finger on the trigger. "It has been interesting Mr. Standish, and I do not lie when I say you will be missed."

The echo of a shot ricocheted in the room. It took a couple of seconds for the realization to sink in that Walker was the man on the ground, a bullet hole dead center in is his forehead. One of the thugs grabbed at Ezra to use as a shield but he too dropped to the ground as Chris and Buck charged through the door. Within seconds, the room was quiet. Two more thugs were bleeding out on the ground. Chris didn't care if they were alive or dead as he stepped over them to get to his man. Buck took the extra couple of seconds to ensure there would be no further gunplay, kicking weapons out of reach.

Vin had charged down from the roof after his sniper shot had dropped Walker. He flew into the room, followed by the remainder of the team. He'd seen Ezra from above, had a better idea of what he was walking in on. It still did not prepare him for the gut wrenching sight.

Nathan snapped out of his shock first, with medical training overriding his all too human response. But as he neared his teammate he felt overwhelmed. There was so much damage, so many injuries. He knew every touch was going to be an additional torture.

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He could sense movement around him. His eyes were too swollen to see anything more than shapes, but he knew they were coming towards him again. The promise of death had been another ploy. Another torment. No, they would not kill him. They'd already revived him from that release at least twice that he could recall, using the taser to shock him back to this circle of hell. Now, they approached again. He would be cut down, but to what fate. Stomping and kicking? Whipping? One of the men walked out of his sight, moving behind him. Oh please God, not further violation with the assorted rough and raw toys they so delighted in using. As a hand touched as his back his determination began to shatter. He was thoroughly ashamed of the scream he heard coming from his mouth.

The shriek he released at their touch chilled them all. Buck pulled his hand away at the same instant Chris took a step back. "Ezra. It's OK, it's us. It's Chris." He turned to the others. "For Christ's sake, where the hell is the ambulance." Looking past the team he saw the FBI and other officers coming into the building. "Shut the damn door. Nobody else needs to see this."

"Chris for God's sake stop shouting. You're terrifying him. Everybody just back off. You too Nathan. Let me talk to him." Vin walked up slowly toward Ezra, speaking barely above a whisper.

"Hey Pard. Ezra, it's Vin. I'm here now. It's over Ezra, but you gotta let us help you. We need to get you down from there."

"Go to hell." The voice could barely be heard

"Ezra, it's Vin. You know my voice Ezra. You know this is me. Please, let me help you Pard."

Pard? They didn't call him Pard. Walker's goons had called him a thousand names but never Pard. Vin called him that. His friends called him that. But his friends had all left him. Now Vin was here?

Another faint whisper. "Vin?"

"That's right. I'm here. We're here. We're gonna get you home."

"No, no, no, no." The weak voice was breaking. "Not like this, you can't… they can't see... Oh god, don't let them know…" his head rolled forward as he felt himself losing control.

"This ain't your fault. We want to help. Buck and Chris are going to..."

"NO!"

"Okay, Ezra, easy. I need someone to help me though. Can't get you down from here alone. Please Ezra, let us help." Vin was beginning to quietly panic. The injured agent was getting weaker by the second. The last shout had clearly consumed what little strength he had left, and all that had happened, added to the slowly registering fact it was over was draining the man of what little fight still in him.

"Josiah?"

"Yeah Ezra, he's here. He's gonna help ok?" The big man moved quickly but quietly beside the broken agent. Steadying his voice to hide the horror he felt he all but whispered "I'm here Son – I'm gonna take care of you."

"NO!" It was a trick – they were going to take care of him. That's what they said right before…"NO!"

Vin was beside him again. "Easy. It's OK, were going to help."

Josiah was horrified. Whatever he'd done had scared the one person who, at this moment, was the most important person in his world. Vin shook his head, equally confused. Ezra had asked for Josiah, and then rebelled. Dealing with him was a minefield, and they had no map.

"I'm sorry Son. I'm sorry. I promise I'm just gonna…" no, take care of him was what he'd said last time. What was Vin saying? "Son, I'm just gonna help you. It's gonna hurt a bit," liar – was gonna hurt like hell, "but we're gonna be right here for you."

"Vin – really you? Josiah – others?"

"We're here Ezra. You done real good Pard. It's all over now." He felt an enormous sense of relief as he felt Ezra relax slightly under his hands. Josiah looked over to him and nodded. He too had seen the shift, the moment Ezra understood he was with friends.

"We're gonna get you some help now. Got to move you a bit , okay?"

Getting no reaction he slowly enveloped Ezra in the black duster coat Chris had removed and handed over. Instead of the expected screams of pain they heard only soft moans and whimpers as he gently wrapped arms around the wounded man and lifted him enough to free his hands from the hook. Ezra gasped as the pain of movement radiated through his shoulders and back, but fell weakly into the support of his friend. There was simply no energy left for a stronger reaction.

Vin reached to undo the ropes but stopped when he saw how imbedded in the skin they were. That was one of many procedures that would have to wait until proper care could be given. "Ezra, Nathan wants to come and look at your hands, at your injuries. Can I let him come over?" The was a small but determined shake of the head. "He just wants to help Ezra. We're all here," he repeated. "It's just us. We all want to help." After a few seconds he was answered with a weak nod.

Before anyone could respond there was a rap at the door. JD opened it a crack. "'medics" he stated, opening the door for them. Before he could close it again two FBI agents charged in behind.

"Where the hell is that worthless piece of crap. He sold out my men to save his hide and he's not getting away with it again."

Buck slammed Taylor against the wall before he got any further. Chris leaned in to within inches of the idiots face and spoke in a soft but menacing voice. "I think it would be in your best interest to shut the hell up if you have any intention of surviving the next 30 seconds. I don't know what you think is going on, but I promise you if you say one more word I will give my full approval for Buck here to limit your ability to ever speak again."

Agent Reed spoke up. "We've had word over the last 12 hours of 4 operations compromised and I have 3 men in hospital as a result. The only way that could have happened is Standish making a deal with Walker, so we would very much like to speak to him about just that. Don't worry, we'll take care of him. Authorization is from the regional director, so you really have no say in the matter."

Chris grabbed him and spun him to look at where Ezra lay, barely conscious leaning against Josiah. "Does that look like a man who sold out your people? Does that look like a man who saved his own hide?" He spun him back and shoved him toward the door. "I don't care if God Himself gave you authority, you'll question him over my dead body you bastard."

He turned back to see Josiah gently lowering Ezra onto the gurney. He had gone still, barely reacting to what had to be another painful assault to his body as he was wheeled out to the waiting ambulance. The only sound were soft words from Vin, who had claimed his place next to the stretcher. The EMTs recognized there was no point in telling the man he couldn't accompany them. Josiah made a move to follow, but stopped when he realized he would only be in the way. It was killing him to watch the younger man being wheeled out of his sight.

"We'll be right behind you." JD said.

"No, we won't." Chris looked at the team. "We stay here and make sure nothing messes up this crime scene. I don't want any FBI people getting anywhere near this stuff. We handle it, our guys process it." They all stared at him. "Nobody is going to have a chance to screw around with anything here."

"You think they'd tamper with this?" JD was stunned by the thought. "Why?"

"Cause somebody tipped off Walker. The Feds had operations compromised, covers blown – they're right. Somebody is on the inside. I guan–damn–tee you we are gonna find him. Ezra's not taken the fall for this crap." He looked at the determined looks now on his team's faces. The faith they had in their friend was apparent. God better be ready to help the man who had sold Ezra out to this monster, cause when Team 7 found him, nothing but Divine interception could save him.

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Chris figured out quickly that Josiah would be of little use at the crime scene, as his focus had left with the ambulance. Stating the Vin would need the company he sent Josiah away. The rest of them detailed the scene, trying with no real success to ignore the fact it was testament to the brutality their teammate, their friend, had suffered. They touched nothing, waiting for the forensics team, but as they cataloged each item they felt themselves sinking deeper into despair. JD stood with Buck as they looked at the items on the bench, trying to keep his hands from shaking as he wrote the descriptions Buck was giving. The man's voice stopped as he looked at the broom handle and metal rod. The trace evidence on the surface left no doubt as to how they'd been used.

"What's next Buck? Let's just keep going and get this over with." He looked at the table, his eyes following Buck's stare. After a few seconds, he realized what he was seeing. "Oh Shit. Please no." He turned to sprint toward the exit as his stomach surrendered. Buck grabbed him and shoved an empty evidence bag into his hands, knowing the younger man would never reach his goal in time. A few minutes later he handed JD a bottle of water. "I'm sorry. I just couldn't…God Buck. How does anyone do this? How does anyone survive this?"

"Nothing to be sorry about. As for the rest - I don't have any answers. Some people are just too sick to be allowed to live. The people they hurt? Well they count on having friends like you who can't stomach what they've been through, and use that to help them get strong again." He looked at the kid. "You gonna be able to do that for Ez?"

"Damn straight. And Buck…" he looked up at his partner. "It ain't friends like me. It's friends like **us**." He stood and walked over to Chris. "I'm heading back to the office, and then out to the hospital." Before their leader could object he continued. "You don't need all of us, and Vin and Josiah are gonna need some clean clothes."

Chris nodded and smiled just a bit as he saw once again the inner strength his team had. For the first time in days he had a fleeting sense that they might just make it through this.

 **M7M7M7M7M7**

 ** _TBC_**


	3. Chapter 3

Josiah sat quietly in a corner of the emergency waiting area. He'd let the personnel know he was there and waiting for word, any word, on Ezra Standish. He knew there was no point in trying to get in to see him. The doctors needed room to work and getting in their way might make things worse. Besides, Vin was with him, and would be for as long as possible. But Ezra was going to need more than either of them could give him. He'd need a miracle, and Josiah wasn't sure he believed in those any more. After seeing what he'd seen today, he wasn't sure he believed in anything anymore.

He knew the world could get ugly, and often did. He knew justice didn't always see things the way he did, and there was little he could do about that. He hadn't known he could feel this empty inside, as if his soul had deserted him, but he was certain that if his friend died, nothing would bring his own soul back.

A short time later he felt someone standing in front of him. Fear told him it was bad news, and he hesitated in meeting the face. Some measure of relief came when he saw JD watching him, holding out a small bundle of clothing. "Thought you might want to clean up a bit." Josiah looked down, only then realizing he was marked in blood and sweat. "Don't want Ezra waking up to see you lookin' like that now do we." Inspired by the forced confidence in the young man's voice Josiah dragged himself to his feet.

"No, we sure don't. He'd give me a lengthy lecture on the importance of appearance at all times." And dear God how he'd love to hear it. He took the clothes and reached an arm around JD's shoulders. "Good thinking JD." He could feel the slight tremble which betrayed the true emotions of the moment, but chose for both of their sakes to ignore it. "I'll be back, looking, as Ezra would say, far more appropriate to the occasion."

By the time he did return the room was much more crowded, but still eerily quiet. Once the independent forensics team had arrived, and firm orders left for no FBI agents to be allowed on site, the team felt too oppressed by the warehouse to stick around. With no words being needed, they all arrived to wait together. He moved over to sit next to Chris.

"Something you need to know, but you got to promise me you aren't gonna kill anyone."

Chris tilted his head and smiled without humour. "Mood I'm in I can't guarantee that. What?"

"Ezra heard what the Feds said about him."

"Shit – you sure."

"Yeah. He started shaking even worse, had trouble breathing. I tried to settle him, but he just kept shaking, mumbling. Then he passed out, which I guess was good for the trip, but he sure didn't need that load of crap dumped on him."

"And you expect me to NOT kill the Feds involved?'

"Think it would create more problems than it would solve. 'sides, I'm thinking Ez will want to take a strip of them himself when this is all over."

Chris leaned back on the waiting room seat. "I'm not going after them - for now. No promises for next time I see them." Josiah nodded. "I'm with you on that Brother."

Vin's appearance at the door broke the stillness, but not the silence of the others. Taking in a long slow breath and determined to keep his voice calm and steady, he allowed himself to be surrounded by the support he felt radiating from his friends. "They kicked me out. He's… they're still patching him up. Will be for a while. Trying to get him stable enough to be able to operate. There's been a lot of internal bleeding. I didn't understand half of what they were trying to tell me. Nathan'll have to sort it out with the doc later."

"What can you tell us Vin?"

He looked to Chris. "Nothing good. Ribs busted, hands busted. Ankle, shin, collarbone. Hell, shorter list of what's still in one piece. They think the kidneys are shutting down, and probably liver damage too, from all the beatings. Burns and cuts everywhere – gonna need a lot of surgery to fix all that up down the line. Doc said he's been resuscitated at least 3 times." They looked at him, not understanding. "The bastard's kept reviving him to torture him more." His legs started to go out from under him, and Buck reached quickly to guide him to a seat.

Chris could see there was more. He knelt down to face his friend. "Tell us Vin. We need to know so we can help him."

He took another deep breath, shaking his head slightly trying to clear the images his mind was creating. "He's got tears. Rectal tears. Tore him up real bad. Doc seems to think it was all objects, no one actually – shit. No one raped him, but…" his voice hitched as he tried to stay in control.

"Breathe Vin. You been through hell for the last couple hours."

"Nothing like what he's had."

"No, but seeing it on someone you care about ain't easy either. You gotta know it meant everything to him to have you there."

"They're right Mr. Tanner. I think your friend wouldn't have made it through the last few hours alone."

None had heard the doctor enter the room. He watched the 6 men for a moment, and envied them the support he could feel from each of them for the others, and for the young man in ICU.

"Agent Standish is in grave condition gentlemen. The injuries on their own, while they are severe and in some cases may be debilitating, are not serious. None would be considered life threatening. However, cumulative, and given the period of time he has been imprisoned, the situation is not promising. We also need to be concerned with the fact he is not showing signs of regaining consciousness. There are several more tests we need to do, but at this point he really is not strong enough for prolonged procedures. With the blood loss, organ trauma, emotional distress – well, I just wish I could offer a more optimistic prognosis. I'm not saying there is no hope. The mere fact he is still with us shows he is a fighter."

"He perfected the stubborn SOB ideal." Buck grinned, not willing to let these words defeat them.

"Yes, I can believe that. Still, I don't want to leave you unprepared. His family should be notified."

"His family is all right here doc." Chris responded. "Legally too. Josiah here has power of attorney for any medical decisions, so you talk to him."

Josiah turned slowly to stare at Chris. "I do?"

"Yeah – sorry to be telling you like this. Ezra had me witness the papers a few weeks back. Said there was no one he'd trust more with his best interests. Guess he didn't get a chance to let you know."

He shook himself out of the shock. "OK Doc, I'm going to make this really easy on you to understand. You do any and everything you have to do to keep him alive."

"There really are things to discuss…"

"Not yet there aren't. Right now, you keep him with us. Understand?"

"I'll be doing everything I can." If sheer willpower and determination counted for anything, and if that could be transferred from these men to his patient, the doctor had no doubt a recovery would be inevitable.

7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7

Morning found the men draped over chairs in the waiting room in various states of wakefulness. JD had managed to sleep off and on, but was wakened each time by visions in his dreams of the room Ezra had been held in. He got to the point closing his eyes was that last thing he wanted to do. Buck was resting nearby, and reacted each time JD stirred. He knew the young man had not witnessed many of the horrors the job could bring, and learning that such evil had touched their friend was proving too much for him to process. Vin paced the halls when he could not be in the room with Ezra. The medical staff had discovered that Ezra rested better when he was nearby, his voice having as much calming effect as any medication did. Josiah too, seemed to help keep him settled, so the two took turns being with him whenever possible. When he was periodically evicted from the room, Josiah wandered to the hospital chapel to offer prayers to a Deity whose existence he was now doubting. Nathan and Chris had both dozed, coming to whenever someone came into the area.

It was such an intrusion that had Chris on his feet. Judge Travis arrived early the following morning, delivering both coffee and an update on the investigation. The team, minus Vin who stayed with Ezra, sat quietly and listened to the explanations that had been provided for the actions and attitudes of the FBI the day before. The Judge confirmed that some ongoing investigations had definitely been compromised, and several others had been called off as their security was also in doubt. Additionally, three FBI agents had been hospitalized after their operation collapsed, but none in serious condition. Given the suspicions that had led to Ezra's departure from the FBI, and the timing of the blown covers, the conclusion had been reached that he was Walker's inside source.

"How the hell could they come up with that lame-brained jackass idea?" Buck was on his feet looking for something, or preferably someone, to punch.

JD was stunned at both the idea that Ezra would betray fellow agents, and at the stupidity of anyone who would believe it. "Did it occur to any of those geniuses at the Bureau the Ezra was only with this guy for two weeks, and that THEY were the ones who brought him in to begin with?"

Nathan was equally aggravated. "Walker obviously had someone tipping him off, cause someone told him Ezra was a plant. Their conclusions are just plain ludicrous. Why would he have to be fighting to stay alive if he was in on the whole thing?"

The Judge smiled at the loyalty and fierce protective instincts of these men. You did not take on one member of the team without bringing down the wrath of the remaining 6 on your head. "Well, to give them the benefit of the doubt on that point, they did reach their conclusions before anyone was aware of what Standish went through in the past week. Not," he added quickly, "that that in anyway justifies the inanity of those conclusions. Rest assured gentlemen, this investigation is far from over, but there is no chance whatsoever that he will be held accountable for the leaks."

"What do you know Judge? Clearly there is something you're not sharing."

He looked at Chris and the others, unsure of how they would react to the latest wrinkle in the case. "Walker recorded his – interrogations."

Buck finally settled for punching a wall, but Nathan grabbed his hand before contact was made. "We don't need anybody else busted up. Punch a pillow."

"Everything was recorded?" JD was remembering some of the tools that had been used. "Judge, you have to make sure nobody sees that. Ezra would be – god he'd be…I don't know what, but you can't."

They all looked every bit as sickened by the idea. "He's right Judge. Some of those FBI morons hate him to begin with. They get wind of that – shit, the gossip will kill him."

"Chris, it's evidence. With Walker and the others dead, it will likely never have to be evidence in a courtroom, but it is needed to clear his reputation. We can't just bury it. And we can't pick and choose what they see. It would look like we're covering up for him. What I can do, and have done, is make sure the recording is seen only a few people. People I trust. And you'll have to trust **me** on that, but I too have no desire to see Standish humiliated. Not that he has any cause to be. I've seen some of that footage, and his courage – there really are no words."

"I want to see it before the Feds do."

"No Chris – you aren't going to see it. None of you are. If you think he'd be humiliated by the Feds seeing it, imagine how he'd feel if he knew you had? Mortified does not being to cover it. Trust me when I tell you for all of your sakes, that is not something you ever need to see."

"We all saw the room. It can't be worse than our imaginations."

"Yes JD, it can be. Much worse. Walker was a sadistic bastard. What was done is only part of the atrocity. What was said to him, the mind games they played. You would not be able to see him in the same way again, and knowing Standish he would see your concern as pity, or worse. I ask again that you trust me on this."

"We have any choice?"

"Not really." He paused to regroup for a moment. "Gentlemen, I know you want to be here but I need you, at least some of you, back at work."

"What's more important than being here?"

Chris answered for the Judge. "Buck , we have to figure out who sold Ezra out. When he wakes up, he'd going to need to know that everybody involved in this has paid, one way or another."

"I'm not leaving."

"Don't expect you to Josiah. Vin neither. You two are anchoring him. As long as he needs you here then you stay put. Spell each other off. You getting sick won't help him. The rest of us will go…" He stopped when he saw a flurry of activity in the hall, all headed toward Ezra room. Josiah made the first move to see what was happening, but was blocked by Nathan. "Stay put, we'll just be in the way. Let me go and…" He turned to see Vin walking toward them, pale as a ghost.

"Some kind of seizure. God Chris, he looked like he was possessed or something. Never seen anything. They think there's more bleeding in the brain. Maybe something ruptured. Doctor asked if I thought he'd want a priest. I said he'd want Josiah."

No one tried to stop him this time as he went to be by Ezra's side. They stood, trying not to look at each other, knowing it would hurt too much to see the pain on everyone's face.

It was just minutes till Josiah returned. "They're gonna try to fix it – gonna operate." He paused. "Doc said you can all come in for a minute first." He didn't need to add that they were being given their chance to say goodbye.

Dr. Starke was leaving the room as they neared. "I can only give you a couple of minutes while I scrub up. We have to hurry. I'm sorry."

Josiah stayed back. He'd had his say, and wasn't certain he could walk into the room without losing what was left of his composure. The others moved round the bed, unable to fully accept the image before them. Ezra Standish had always been a man who grabbed life for all it was worth. Seize the day was not a slogan, it was a way of life. And now, he was broken in body and spirit, holding onto life by the thinnest of threads. This was not the Ezra they wanted to remember.

JD could barely breath. He wanted to turn away, to not have to accept this reality. Buck wouldn't let him. "He deserves to have your respect – you give him that by talking to him." Buck stepped to the bed. "You best get better in a hurry Ez. I need to win some of my money back from you for that pretty little lady I was telling you about." He softly touched his hand before turning away, making eye contact with JD. The younger man stepped forward. "He's not lyin' Ez. He needs the money cause she's way to pretty to go out with him otherwise. He needs you back. We all do." He stepped back into the supporting arm of his friend and the two stepped aside for the others.

Nathan moved forward. He had so many things running through his head to say. Wishing he'd been a better friend, a better healer. Sorry for the mistrust he'd had when the gambler joined the team. Sorry for so many things. In the end, he said nothing. He reached forward and gently brushed his fingers through the messy hair. He turned away.

Vin too could not find the right words. Everything he'd said up until now had come easily to him, trying to keep his friend calm and reassured, trying to lead him back to them. Now, he couldn't find a way to say what was most important. Chris stepped up beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as he looked down on the bed. "You know you ain't allowed to run out on us. You better be planning on sticking around." Vin nodded his agreement, then realized Ezra couldn't know that. "We love ya Pard. Come back."

7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7

Hours later they were back to the chairs in the waiting room. Any plans on leaving were long forgotten, although they had all wandered the floors and the neighbourhood while waiting. Nathan had discovered a hotel just two blocks away and immediately booked a suite there. They could base an office in one room, and use the other for resting, since he knew they would all want to stay close to the hospital for the next days and weeks of Ezra's recovery. Even though he knew better than to expect it, his heart insisted he prepare things for a recovery period ahead.

JD had his tablet out, trying to keep his mind on anything other than what was happening in the surgery down the hall. The others checked in with him from time to time to see what he had found as he scoured through emails, case files and anything else he could that might provide even a hint on the identity of the FBI mole. Slowly a few things were coming together, but nothing beyond circumstantial evidence. The same kinds of half-truths and unproven rumors that had driven Ezra from the FBI. He would not approve of anyone else falling victim to that fate.

Buck was trying to convince Chris that he needed to order something to eat. He was going to get some sandwiches – something to keep them going. To keep them occupied. He couldn't have felt less like eating himself, but anything was better than sitting here feeling so totally useless. He turned to leave, then froze in place. Dr. Starke was walking toward them, shaking his head ever so slightly. Buck moved toward JD, knowing in his heart this was going to destroy the young agent. The movement attracted Chris's attention, and he stepped toward Vin for the same reason. Nathan approached Dr. Starke.

"There is simply no logical or medical reason why someone injured that badly should have survived surgery. Your friend is either the most tenacious, determined man I have ever encountered, or the luckiest, and a truly lucky man wouldn't be here in the first place. He's in recovery now. It will be a few hours till we can settle him in a room, so I advise you all to get some dinner and some rest. This isn't over, but I am willing to concede that there is now some light at the end of this particular tunnel. Damned if I know why." He watched the transformation from sorrow to disbelief to joy on the faces of the men in front of him. There were some days he could almost say he really did love his job.

M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7

 _ **tbc**_


	4. Chapter 4

In the four days since his surgery Ezra had not moved. Dr. Starke, and Nathan, assured the team this was to be expected. After all, the man was in a medically induced coma to allow his body to deal with the shock of the surgery, the other injuries and the emotional trauma he'd been through. Physically, he was improving. His breathing was stronger, his kidneys were working again, the fever he'd developed had settled thanks to substantial doses of antibiotics, and the litany of burns, cuts and other wounds he'd suffered were starting to show signs of healing.

The only area Dr. Starke had been less than forthcoming about was the possible long term effects. He had told them there would be more procedures ahead, including surgery on broken and crushed bones and plastic surgery to try to rid him of at least the physical scars. Muscle and tendon damage would require a great deal of physiotherapy to work through. There was a long road ahead, but most things were slowly improving. He had not raised the long term effects of the brain surgery, nor had they asked. Understandable at first. Ezra was not the only one traumatized by recent events. But they were going to have to start looking to the future, and doing so without the full picture was not doing anyone any favours. Recognizing Josiah's position with power of attorney, and Nathan's role as team medical expert, he requested they come in for a consultation. Now, two hours later, the two faced the remainder of the team.

"I don't get it Nathan. I thought the surgery was a success. You told us he was just resting now, getting stronger."

"It was a success JD. They kept him alive. But you have to realize how bad it was. There was bleeding, swelling. The brain's a delicate thing. It doesn't take kindly to being battered around."

"But you said he was getting stronger."

"And he is. His body is healing."

"Body, but not his brain." Vin asked quietly. He jaw was clenched tight. He thought this was over. He had hoped the worst, at least of the medical crap, was behind them. Now they were hearing about brain damage. About Ezra not waking up, or not waking up right. He stood and faced Nathan. "What the hell did we keep him alive for?"

Nathan got to his feet and met Vin's stare. "Because you know how much he loves to beat the odds. You think he's giving up? Hell no. He's fighting. He's still alive because he's fighting."

Chris stepped between the two men. Both were tired and stretched to their limits. They all were. Fighting amongst themselves was not going to help anyone, and things said in the next few minutes could be enough to tear them apart if they weren't careful.

"Ezra trusted Josiah to make that kind of call for him, and he did what he thought was best. Nobody is giving up on anybody. WHEN Ezra wakes up, he'll need us together. That's the same whether he's good as new, or…not."

Vin looked at him, then back to Nathan. Rubbing a tired hand across his face, he lifted the other to Nathan's shoulder. They nodded to each other, not needing to say the words. As Vin moved back to his seat he gave a similar, and equally unneeded, sheepish apology to Josiah, who grinned slightly. "I hear you Brother."

"OK Nathan. Just what are we dealing with here."

"Until he wakes up there's no way to be sure what is affected, or how badly. So far, it doesn't look like there is a lot of physical fall out. He's breathing well, heart's good. Reflexes seem pretty strong, and there's no evidence of the kind of after affect you might have from a stroke or similar brain injury. The problem is more likely to be in what the evidentiary memory. Recalling events, people. Maybe language."

"Damn" Buck interrupted. "He is gonna be pissed if he doesn't remember all those $5 words."

JD looked confused. "But will he remember that he can't remember something?" Buck looked at him. "Knock it off kid. You're gonna give me a headache." JD grinned. It was a silly bit of dialogue, but had the desired effect of releasing a bit more of the tension in the room.

"What else Nathan? Is there a chance any of that stuff will come back?"

"We don't even know if it's gone Vin. And probably at least some can come back. But…there are just so many ways the brain can go. He might know some of us, but not others. He might remember his childhood, but not remember working for ATF."

Chris shook his head. "Given what we know of his childhood, that would suck. What about the attack Nathan? Do you think he'll remember that?"

"That may well be the silver lining in all of this. Odds are the most recent memories are going to be the hardest for him to access. They aren't as imbedded in his conscious mind, so won't be easy to get at. If there is any kind of blessing to be found, it would be that he'll have no recollection of what he went through."

"So what do we need to plan out?"

"Hate to keep saying it, but until he wakes up, it's just too hard to say. You've got to remember how bad he's hurt. We have to try to be ready for just about anything. What I do know is Ezra is not going to want our help. He never does when he's really sick or hurt. To damn stubborn for his own good. We're gonna have to be patient, but every bit as stubborn as he is." He looked around and saw the determination set on the faces starring back at him. Yeah – stubborn was not going to be a problem.

Vin sat quietly in the recliner that had been brought into the room. He gazed out the window, no longer able to watch the unmoving man on the bed. Time had no really meaning any more, but he thought it had been a week since Ezra's surgery. Maybe a bit more. The days had blurred together. He was here, he was at the suite where the team had embedded themselves, he wandered the neighbourhood. There was a recollection of Buck driving him back to his own place to get some clean clothes and have a few moments away from the world. He'd packed a bag, handing it off to Buck, and said he'd be down after he freshened up. He stood under the streaming spray in the shower until the water turned cold. He cried the whole time. Finally stepping out, he toweled down, dressed and went to Buck's car. The older man put a hand on his shoulder. "Feel better?". "Nope." "Yeah – didn't work for me either." They'd driven in silence back to the temporary office.

Chris scowled at the laptop, feeling totally justified in blaming it for the data in front of him. Or, more accurately, the lack of data in front of him. After days of digging into the personal lives of over a dozen FBI agents they were no closer to being able to determine which, if any, of them was responsible for the current situation. Tension continued to permeate the office. Team 7 was very good at very many things, but inaction and waiting did not appear on that list. Nathan brooded. Nathan was not a man prone to brooding, but there was no other word that described his state of mind. Even Buck and JD were snapping at each other, and that almost never happened. Vin and Josiah both were what could kindly be described as zoned out. They came and went from the office, not asking for updates on the search, and no longer providing updates on Ezra. If there had been news, it would have been shared. Hell, it would have been broadcast from the rooftops. They were tired of trying to pretend things were good. As for Chris himself? He'd long gone past the point of wanting to kill someone. That was far too merciful an end. His whole team, his family, was hurting deeply. If it was the last thing he did, someone was going to pay for that.

He stood, resisting the temptation to toss the laptop through the nearest window and placed it on the desk instead. Before he could open his mouth to ask for yet another useless status report the phone rang. He grabbed it, hoping it had not disturbed Josiah, sleeping in the next room. Well, probably not sleeping, but at least resting. "What?" he growled. The words he heard nearly made him drop to the phone. "Ok - we're on our way." The trio in the room looked up at him. He held his hand to delay their question as he walked to the bedroom door, tapping lightly before opening it. "Josiah?". "Chris?" came the quiet response. "He's waking up." Less than a minute later the 5 men were on their way back to the hospital.

They couldn't keep smiles off their faces as they stepped off the elevator. For the first time since Ezra had gone missing they were optimistic. It was quiet as they approached the room, which surprised Buck. He'd hoped to hear Ezra demanding to be allowed to go home, hear Vin telling him to cool it. Nathan was not surprised by the silence. If anything, it was confirming his fears. They should be hearing Vin talking at the very least. The silence was not a good omen and he had to force himself to keep smiling.

Entering the room they stopped, and the grins disappeared. Vin stood by the bed, one hand the other supporting him against the side railing, the other softly brushing Ezra's forehead. He stared into green eyes that showed no sign of recognition, no sign of anything. He pulled his gaze away to meet the others. "He's awake, but he ain't here." Needing some space he stepped away from the bed, heading out the door now that there was someone else to stay. Chris gently reached for his arm as he passed, but Vin shrugged him off. "Not now Chris. Not now." The blond man let him pass.

Josiah had moved to the bed, dragging a stool along with him. He sat where he could hold the smaller man's hand, and did so. "OK Ezra, that's a good start. Now you've got to finish waking up. We need you all the way back Son."

Buck and JD had stepped up as well. "Look man, I know you like to sleep even more than Buck here does, but enough is enough. You're missing too many poker games."

Chris stepped closer to Nathan, keeping his voice soft. "You expected this, didn't you? This is what you've been trying to warn us about."

"I really wanted to be wrong. You have to believe me, I really hoped…"

"I know Nathan; it's not like this is your fault."

"Well, you have been known to want to shoot the messenger," he said, grinning slightly to soften the statement. Chris looked back. "Not on this one. You need to keep being honest, at least with me. I need to know what we can expect."

"We all do." Buck spoke from the bedside. "We all do."

Nathan nodded. "I'm going to talk to Dr. Starke, see what he thinks. They're going to want to do more tests now, so we still are in a waiting mode, but at least I can find out the plan. You want to come with me Josiah?"

"My place is here. Not leaving him."

"Josiah, you know there will be more decisions ahead – serious ones."

"Yup. Not leaving him. You can get the information for me."

Late that night they gathered in the family room down the hall. Josiah wouldn't allow them to have the discussion in Ezra's room and this was the closest place to have some privacy. Vin sat slightly apart from the team. He hadn't spoken since walking out earlier. Nathan took a moment to organize his thoughts before beginning.

"The scans verified there's no more bleeding, and the swelling is pretty much gone. There is some scarring; some signs of damage. Readings on the monitors confirm that brain activity is below where it should be, but not significantly. Waking up didn't change that at much as they'd hoped for."

"Plain English Nathan. Is this physical damage, or is there more to it?" They looked at JD, a bit surprised that he was the one to raise the question. He shrugged self-consciously. "Been doing some on line research on trauma. Figured it was a good idea to find out as much as I could."

"It's likely both JD. All you have to do is think about the last few minutes he was conscious. After everything he'd been through he was left staring down the barrel of a gun. Few minutes later he was confused and surrounded by panicking people, and then he hears the Feds accusing him of being crooked, or worse getting agents hurt. He couldn't cope. He shut down."

"Well who the hell wouldn't' Buck snarled.

"I didn't mean it as an accusation Buck, just stating facts. I don't imagine any of us would do any different. Hell, I doubt I'd have survived as long as he did."

"Sure you would." JD encouraged. His faith in his friends had no limits.

Smiling, Nathan continued. "I'm thinking – hoping – that things will start improving in a few more days. He may start to realize he's with friends now, that he's safe." His smile faded a bit. "More to it though. There is some damage from all he went though. We'll know more in a few days, but it would seem likely there was some damage to what I'll call his physical memories. He may be needing to learn to do some things over."

"What kind of things?"

"Walking, writing, maybe even feeding himself. Or there may be no problem at all. Depends on how severe the damage is, and again, still too early to determine."

"What about talking? Can he talk?"

"I hate to repeat myself, but it's still too soon to know. The ability is there, but vocabulary could be gone, or spotty." He had admit he had trouble with the idea of an Ezra Standish who couldn't talk.

Chris dropped back into his seat, exhaustion evident on his face. "What's next? Where do we go from here?"

Nathan sighed. This was the part they were really going to hate. "He'll need to be here for another week or more for monitoring the healing, and they want to do a bit more orthopedic surgery for the left hand, maybe his right foot too. After that, Dr. Starke has recommend a care home just outside of town where they can take care –"

"No!" Buck all but bellowed. "We are not sticking him in some home and forgetting about him."

"Easy Buck, nobody's forgetting about anyone. Let Nathan finish and we'll talk about it."

"Nothing to talk about Chris. He's not going in a home."

Nathan tried to take control of the conversation again. "What do you propose Buck? That he stay here – hospitalized? You know how much he hates hospitals. At least a home isn't as impersonal."

"Course it's impersonal. They don't know him, the don't know what he needs. We do."

"So what, you're gonna quit your job to take care of him? Maybe for the rest of his life?"

"If I have to."

"No Buck, that would be my role." Josiah looked up at the man. "I'll be taking care of him."

"In your studio apartment?" Nathan challenged. "He'll need a room. He'll need space for physiotherapy equipment. There may even have to be a special diet. Who knows what else may have to be taken into account."

"I'll move out someplace where there'd be room for a proper set up."

"Josiah, how you going to afford all that on a pension, cause you know you can't work and keep that up?"

"He won't have to. I'll help." JD spoke up. "I've got some savings, and I can get a loan or mortgage."

"Nobody's borrowing or buying anything."

"Not your call Chris. He gave me the power of attorney cause he knew I'd take care of his interests, and that's what I'm doing."

"No Josiah. That's what **we're** doing. I've got tons of room at the ranch. There's already a weight room there, so physio stuff can be added. I'll fix up the pool too. Huge kitchen, guest rooms for when you guys stay with him. And if for some reason we can't be with him, well then we hire a caregiver to fill in."

"You speaking for everyone Chris?"

He looked around the room. "Don't hear anyone objecting."

"You get this could be long term, right? Maybe permanent? 24 hours a day, 7 days a week?"

JD grinned. "Well, with 6 of us, that means we each get our own day. We can share him on Sundays!"

"Six? You sure? Vin. You've been quiet – you want to weigh in here?"

He stood and walked over to the window, looking out over the city lights. "I don't know anymore. I don't know if this is what he'd want. I don't know if it's what's best for him. I don't even know if we can do this. All I do know, is we've fought too hard to get him here, and he seems to be fighting just as much. We can't let go of it now." He turned. "Yeah – I'm in."

Josiah looked defiantly at Nathan. "So, you tell Dr. Starke that as soon as Ezra is ready we're taking him home."

Nathan smiled. "I already did."

 _ **TBC**_


	5. Chapter 5

_One month later_

It had been an incredibly long month for all of them, starting with a formidable battle with Dr. Starke over their plan. He was adamant in his belief that they would not be able to provide the level of care and attention required, and deeply concerned this plan was not in his patient's best interest. They were equally adamant that no one could be better suited to care for Ezra than they were. Nathan had enough medical training to be able to monitor his health, change dressings and administer any medications that were needed. Arrangements had been made for a physiotherapist to come by daily for workouts, and to show all of them how to assist. Chris's weight room was transformed into a facility most hospital therapy centres would have envied, and the pool would soon be outfitted to provide more recovery assistance.

After checking the site out for himself, and reviewing all of the hiring and other arrangements made, the doctor came to two conclusions. The first was that there was likely not a facility in the country that would be more attentive to his patient's needs. The second was that Ezra Standish must be someone pretty special to be deserving of this level of care and support.

The Judge had been concerned as well he heard what his team had in mind. Knowing they would still be devoting every working hour to finding out who had been behind all of this, he worried the additional responsibilities would spread the team to thin. Exhausted agents made mistakes, and in this business that could be fatal.

It hadn't been difficult to arrange that they be given what could only be described as a flexible working schedule. Chris already had a satellite office at his ranch, with secured phone and internet, so there was no issue with one or two of them working from there while they stayed with Ezra. The Judge did insist that the bulk of the work be done from the real office. It wasn't that he doubted their dedication to the job, but he was concerned about the perception that the team was still able to function. Their history of outside of the box thinking, and a somewhat loose respect for authority had resulted in some hard feeling by both other ATF teams and the higher-ups in the agency. The last thing they need now was scrutiny from those who would gladly see the team dissembled, or let go all together.

He also wanted a counsellor added to the list of people hired to care for Ezra, in the event he did become responsive in the future. In the interim, the counsellor would keep an eye on the remainder of the team. This much proximity, under the conditions they were living in, was bound to cause a few issues, and these were six strongly independent men.

He wasn't wrong. Over the first month there had been tensions. Everything from minor squabbles all the way up to window rattling shouting matches. The trigger could be as simple as leaving no cream for the coffee, or as significant as care issues for their friend. So far, no one had resorted to physical actions, at least not against one of the others, although Chris was finding an inordinate number of cracks and holes in the walls and doors. It was also difficult to find ice in the freezer, as the supply was constantly being used to ease swollen knuckles.

The frustration was wearing on all of them. Ezra continued to heal, but each day would wake with nothing but the blank stare on his face. Over the days, he seemed to show small signs of fighting through all of this. He responded to their efforts to feed him, and had mastered sipping through a straw quite quickly. The most encouraging moment came the first time he turned his head slightly toward the conversation. He'd done it several times since, stirring the hope he was understanding them and trying to figure out how to process and respond. It made them cautious about what they said in his presence, making sure to never let a hint of doubt be heard.

But at the end of the day, whether it was just one or two teammates, or the whole gang together, they were always there. For him and for each other. When Josiah couldn't sleep for worrying, Chris sat up with him. When JD lost his patience after a particularly difficult physio session with Ezra, Buck had helped him through the stress. And when Nathan fought the tears while changing dressings on Ezra's slowly healing wounds, Vin stayed close enough to share the pain. No matter what else happened, they were more than a team, they were a family. The counsellor quickly came to the conclusion her presence really wasn't needed at this point, but stayed available to them.

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"Too nice a day to be inside Pard. How 'bout we wheel this chair out onto the deck for a bit? You had a good physio workout, think you've earned the reward."

Vin knew there would be no answer, but he asked anyway. Keeping Ezra part of the conversation was one of the long list of suggestions to help him come back. Didn't seem to be working, but who knew what was going on inside. They had all gotten used to the one sided conversations, each imagining what the response would have been. Vin was surprised to realize how much his own vocabulary had expanded as he formed Ezra's answers in his head. JD had told him he'd made the same discovery.

After getting his friend settled in warmth of the sun, Vin announced his intention to go in and get them a couple of cool drinks. Entering the kitchen he saw the team assembled for lunch. "You two joining us?" Buck asked.

"No, just got him settled on the deck. You know how much he loves to sit in the sun. Never warm enough for him. Figured he'd enjoy the fresh air."

Chris smiled. "That man was not made for the a Denver winter, that's for sure. We need to go over the stuff we put together this week when he gets settled. I can't shake the feeling there is something in here we're missing."

"Feds send anything new?"

"Not lately. I'm thinking at this point they've pretty much given up on things."

JD looked up from his brunch. "You don't think they're still trying to blame Ez for any of this."

"Don't doubt for a minute some of them still think so, but officially, no. And once they found out how messed up he was, most of them clued in. But there are gonna be some who never let it go. Short of getting a confession from somebody else, he'll be on their radar."

"Not fair." Buck mumbled through his waffles.

"No, but it is the way things are." Vin shrugged. "We know the truth, and I guess that Ezra knows that we believe in him. That's all I can deal with for now. I'm gonna take his juice out. Why don't you guys bring your coffee when you finish. He seems to be having a good day today, and probably like the company." Receiving nods from all for an answer, Vin headed back outside.

"Brought you some apple juice Pard" he said, reaching to put his drink on the table before fixing Ezra's glass in the holder.

"P-p-prefer or-r- orange."

Both glasses crashed on the deck. "Did you just-? Ezra, did you –"

"B-b-b-but apple be OK"

Vin was shaking head to toe as he stepped closer and squatted down. "I'll get you a whole damned orange grove if you ask again."

"Orange p-p-please." There was a slight smirk on his face.

The back door flung open as Buck came through. "Heard the crash – you two OK?" He became anxious when he say Vin in front of the wheelchair. "He OK?"

"I am f-f-f-fine B-b-buck"

Buck stared for a moment until a smile broke over his face. He leaned back inside. "Git your asses out here! NOW!"

Chairs were pushed back from the table as the remaining team members scrambled to comply. The words should have struck fear, but the tone was anything but alarming. One by one they filled the deck, staring at Ezra and not quite believing what they saw. There was no question that he was seeing them, for the first time in weeks, and seemed amused by their response. As Chris looked around he could see why. They all looked like kids who had just found Santa's workshop – joy, confusion and excitement blended on every face. Josiah was the first to step in closer.

"You back with us to stay Son?" he asked, gently resting a hand on his arm.

"B-b-believe so."

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They fought the temptation to pepper Ezra with questions. Nathan had glared anytime they got a bit loud or high-spirited, keeping them all at bay. As much as they wanted a better understanding of his condition, they didn't want him to be overwhelmed. Ezra had tired quickly and it wasn't long until he was wheeled back inside and settled into his room. He stirred slightly when Josiah lifted him back to bed, but was out again just moments later. Nathan left Dr. Starke a message suggesting a visit to ranch as soon as possible to witness the miracle first hand.

Now, gathered together in the living room, they were still unable to wipe the grins from their faces.

"Guess you got that miracle you've been prayin' for after all Josiah." JD grinned.

"We all got it Brother, we all did."

"Nathan?" JD continued. "He knew who we were. That's real good, right? Means he's gonna be OK?"

Nathan shrugged slightly, unwilling to be the one to break the mood of the evening. It was promising, but there was a long way to go. He looked up to see 5 faces staring at him.

"He's got a long way to go guys. You heard his speech."

"Ah, he's just a little rusty is all." Buck dismissed the concern. "Be fine once he warms up again."

"I wouldn't count on it Buck, at least not right away. Guys – he's been to hell and back, 'cept he's not back yet. Aside from the actual injuries he's had seizures, he's had neuro surgery, and he will more than likely have one hell of a case of post-traumatic stress if and when he starts remembering everything that happened to him. No, Ezra's not back yet, and may never be. The fact he woke up, the fact he knew us and could speak – you're right JD. All really good signs. But there is a long road ahead. An incredibly long road."

Chris smiled sadly. "At least none of us are travelling alone."

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Ezra lay in his room, eyes closed, listening to the words drifting up from down the hall. If those gentlemen think they are being secretive, they have much to learn," he thought to himself. He was not pleased by what he was hearing. Aside from not being fond of being spoken about by others when he was not present, the subject and content of the discussion were most disturbing.

From what he could hear, he should not be alive. That was always disconcerting to discover. That he had suffered injuries was obvious. He had casts, braces and scars to verify that fact. But for the life of him he could not recall how they had happened. If he'd had to hazard a guess, he'd have said he was hit by a car. He mentally catalogued what he could tell of the damage done, and upgraded that opinion to be a bus, maybe even a very large truck. He wouldn't exactly describe the way he felt as being in a great deal of pain, but it was, nevertheless, and uncomfortable existence at the moment. Aches and strains seemed to pull at most muscles and nerves endings. Tolerable, but decidedly unpleasant.

No, the word seizure was much more disturbing to him. Clearly that meant some kind of head trauma. He had concluded there must have been a concussion to explain the inability to ascertain exactly what had caused his current predicament. But seizures. That brought a quiet level of panic into the discourse. It explained the terrifying discovery of his limited ability to speak. He could hear all the words he wanted to say quite clearly in his head. There was no issue there. And he could speak. His voice was fully functional, albeit a tad rusty from disuse. The problem arose in combining thought to action. The words were not coming out the way they started; he did not seem able to actually transmit the thoughts to speech.

Consequences of something that severe could clearly end, at the very least, his career. Without his words, his wit, his dialogue, he was nothing. There was no use for an ATF agent, much less an undercover operative, who could not converse effectively. And the aftermath to the end of his career was no less than an end to life as he knew it. He had been defined by his career, for better or worse, for as long as he could remember. It had saved him from the depressing nomad existence he'd suffered as a child, and gave him a sense of purpose he had never anticipated. More than that, it gave him the companionship of the gentlemen he was now listening to as they discussed his future, and if he in fact had one.

These were men of deeds, men of action. They would likely not long tolerate one in their midst whose ability was limited to – well, whatever it was he would be limited to. He had no doubt of that.

He realized the conversation had stopped, and a moment later heard two sets of footsteps approaching the room.

"Ezra – you sleeping?" Nathan's voice was soft, clearly not wanting to disturb his rest. And so, he stayed still, allowing their healer to step back.

"He'll probably sleep pretty soundly through the evening and night Chris. I think I should stay overnight though, just in case. Today was tiring for him. More stressful than he let on."

"You mean he's barely conscious, and already hiding how he's really feeling?"

"That's our Ezra."

"Yeah – damn fool. Why does he always have to make things so difficult?"

He listened as they walked away. "Fool indeed," he thought, "for thinking things could ever truly end well."

 _ **TBC**_


	6. Chapter 6

As the days passed Ezra continued to try conversations with his teammates. They watched as the frustration grew on his face as he tried so desperately to express himself. He explained, in a halting manner, that he knew what he wanted to say, but not how to make himself say it. Efforts to write his comments were equally futile. Between the brace still on his hand restricting fine motor movements, and the same issue of thought to action breakdown, he had ultimately thrown the pen across the room on a couple of occasions, grateful that he had little force behind it when one such projectile hit Chis as he entered the room.

Expecting, even anticipating, a response in the usual Larabee rant mode, Ezra found himself despondent over the understanding look he received instead. He had struggled long and hard to earn what he believed to be a margin of respect, and seeing nothing more than what he read as pity was destroying him.

Matters grew worse as he watched their faces reflect what he believed to be disappointment or irritation with his efforts. By the end of the week he was nodding his answers, and making every effort to spend as much time away from them as possible. In direct contrast to this withdrawal was a drastically increased effort at his physiotherapy. He was determined to get himself well enough to be able to leave the ranch. He'd given up on any illusion of a self-sufficient life, but he would force himself to get to a state where he could move into some form of assisted living. The phrase offended him, offended his independent spirit. But, Maude Standish had not raised a dreamer. He had neither time nor inclination to live with false hope. Nor did he intend to further burden his team. He had seen the time they were taking away from the job, away from doing what they were born to do. He refused to be responsible for the downfall of Team 7, and he firmly believed if they did not soon return to full active status, they may end up disbanded, or worse, dismissed.

Consequently, he forced himself almost to the state of exhaustion. Nathan tried to get him to ease back. Buck and JD teased him about trying to get in shape to start dating again, and Chris threatened him with his glare. No words, just the glare warning him not to push it. Vin and Josiah watched and worried, both know full well there was more going on than just a desire to regain his mobility, yet not having any idea how to find out what, or help him achieve the goal.

Despite their disapproval over the way he did it, they couldn't help but be thrilled to see Ezra on his feet. Within three weeks of regaining consciousness he was able to maneuver himself down the hall, on a pair of crutches. The wrist brace made it awkward, and difficult to watch, but he pushed forward, reaching the point when usually the second crutch was nothing more than a balancing aid. He recognized the symbolic tightrope walk he was on, but kept that observation, and most other thoughts, to himself.

It was after one of these walks that he found himself looking into the makeshift office Chris had created for the duration of their special project. Ezra had determined that the team, minus Buck who currently had the dubious honour of babysitting him, was out working whatever case they were assigned. Ezra expressed no interest in the day to day activities of the team, and they were accepting his temporary withdrawal from any involvement. Vin and JD had expressed the opinion the he needed to feel he was still part of the team, but the others outvoted them with their concern it might put too much pressure on him; fearing it might bring back the buried memories of his experience. He had yet to recall any details of his ordeal, aware only that he had been undercover, things had gone badly and he'd paid the price for that.

As was always the case, and against his own best judgement, Ezra allowed his curiosity to get the best of him. He worked his way to the table, sitting down with relief in Chris's chair. He reached for the nearest file glanced at the label. "Crime scene photos." These were clearly not the official files. Labelling system in the ATF was far more formal and structured. This were the teams own reference records filling the work space. It all struck the undercover agent as strange. None of this should leave the office, and copies, especially on this scale, were rarely allowed out either. He flipped the folder open and was taken aback by the graphic images. The room was appalling. Blood could be seen on most surfaces, along with other trace evidence the exact nature of which he chose not to dwell on. He could see chains and ropes at the periphery of the shot. Someone had clearly been held here. No wonder the team was focused on this – it was a hideous case. Forcing himself to remain professional, he continued to scan through, seeing more images of the room and the implements that had been used. There were bodies on the floor in some shots. He couldn't say why, but he knew they were the perpetrators and not the victims here. It wasn't just the lack of injury, apart from the obvious gunshots on the men. There was something else that he couldn't identify that made him certain of his conclusion.

The next folder was transcripts – or rather photocopies of transcripts. Far less difficult to look at emotionally, but he still did not have the ability to concentrate for long periods on the written word. He knew most of this was likely to be interviews, either with the victim, any remaining suspects or the investigating officers. None of which were urgent enough for him to bring on a headache just to review. He did look at the initial report page, hoping to get a summary of what they believed had transpired. He flipped past applications for surveillance and search warrants, along with numerous other bureaucratic wastes of time. It was only on noticing the FBI logo on some of these that he slowed his scanning.

A joint venture? That was unlike the team. The had held a low opinion of the bureau as they discovered how Ezra had been treated in his time there. While they wouldn't defy orders to work with the Bureau, he was surprised to see this much effort had gone into the undertaking. He flipped a few more pages and was startled to see his name on one of the forms. "Oh dear Lord" he thought, "don't tell me they're after me again." It would explain why the team was looking into this. If more questions had been raised about his honestly the integrity of Team 7 and every case they'd done could be called into doubt.

He forced himself to focus more on the forms, but found the print blurring under his rapidly tiring gaze. He did think this was describing his as an investigating officer. One of his old cases that had come back to haunt him? Surely he'd have remembered something about that crime scene. Tossing the folder to the side he looked at the other labels and was able to make out the phrase photos on another. Opening it he forced down the bile in his throat when his eyes fell on the first one. These were not crime scene shots taken by forensics investigations. These appeared to be taken from video clips. It took only seconds to deduce that the sadistic bastards who did this had recorded their torture of the unfortunate target. Between the quality of the shots and his own still less than stellar vision, Ezra could make out only the man's back, covered in welts, cuts and burns. He was chained over a bench, stripped down and obviously unable to protect himself in any way from the onslaught. He reached to close the folder. He had neither the physical or emotional strength to deal with this right now. Just as the file closed, he caught a glimpse of an item in the lower corner of the photo. A burgundy leather jacket lay on the floor. It was hard to see for sure, but it appeared to have been sliced into pieces, undoubtedly as it was removed from the victim. With a rapidly growing sense of dread, Ezra recognized the jacket.

He forced himself to calm his breathing. Surely there were other such jackets in the world. Belonging to a man who had been involved with ATF and the FBI. A man who unmistakably had been critically injured recently. His hands shook as he reached to reopen the folder. Looking around to ensure himself of his privacy, knowing full well the others were not aware he'd wandered into this nightmare, his eyes fell upon the laptop. Anything printed out would be on there as well, and he'd be able to enlarge the photos, seeing the victim – seeing everything – more clearly.

The password was no obstacle. He may not be able to hack into files with the ease JD had, but there was not a man on his team whose password he hadn't figured out. They really needed to learn to change them more frequently. In less than a moment he had pecked his way over the keyboard to open Chris's active case files. Walker. The name jumped at him like the monster in a nightmare. Crime scene photos, statements, call transcripts, warrant applications. Everything was there. Moving the mouse toward the photos his eye caught on the video icon. There it was. The source of the pictures in front of him. He clicked twice and watched his life disintegrate once again.

Buck dropped his coffee cup when he heard the scream from the office. No one should be in there. Ezra was asleep, and no one else was home. He charged down the hall, gun drawn. The screams came again, followed by what could only charitably be described as laughter. The office door was open, and he cautiously peered in. Ezra sat at the desk, starring at the laptop. It took Buck a moment to realize that was the source of the sounds. Ezra himself was silent, but Buck knew the screams were his. Rushing in he slammed down the lid, and seconds later the only sound in the room was his own heavy breathing and the raspy gasping choking sounds coming from his friend. He wanted more than anything to wrap his arms around him in comfort, but feared that would be the worst action right now. He remembered how Ezra had panicked at the slightest touch when they'd found him. Panicked at any voice other than Vin or Josiah. God, he wished one of them was here now.

He slowly turned the chair Ezra sat in, hoping visual contact would calm the man down. He fought the pit that settled in his stomach when he saw the blank eyes staring back. "Oh God, Ez. No. Don't do this. Come on man. Stay with me here. Ez. It's Buck. I'm here with you Ez. You're safe. Come on Hoss, I know you can hear me. Let me know you can hear me."

As he rambled, hoping something might get through the shock and horror, he dialed Chris's number. When he heard the pick-up he fought the urge to scream into the phone, keeping his voice level to keep Ezra from going further over the edge.

"Get everybody home –now. And come in quiet."

"Buck?" fear gripped Chris. "What happened?"

"He knows what happened. He went in the office. What the hell were you thinking? Never mind – just get everybody here."

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It was quite likely the longest drive he'd ever taken to the ranch. Vin sat quietly beside him, worrying his lower lip to the point he was about to draw blood. Nathan was almost jumping out of his skin, leaning forward in the back seat as if it would get the car home faster. Josiah and JD had been called from their investigations and were on the way home too, but they'd been further out of town and not expected for a while longer. Chris pulled into the drive and Vin was out the door before the car came to a full stop. Nathan was only a second behind, and caught up as Vin reached the door.

"Slow down. We don't know what shape he's in, and barging in can't help. Calm and quiet." Chris had caught up and the three entered together. They could hear Buck speaking in the office. Buck looked up as he heard them approach.

"Vin, you got through to him before. Maybe you'll have more luck." He slowly stood and stepped off, allowing the younger man to take the space.

"Hey there Pard. It's Vin. Can you look at me Ezra? Come on. We can do this together. You need to look at me." There was no response, no hint of any recognition. At least at the warehouse there had been fear and panic, things that could be addressed. This was far more frightening.

Chris grabbed Buck by the arm and steered him outside. "What the hell were you thinking letting him in the office. Christ! Those photos are bad enough for us."

"I didn't **let** him see anything. I was in the kitchen fixing some lunch. Wasn't even in the room. Besides – it wasn't the photos." He stared at Chris. "He saw the fuckin' video Chris. What the hell are you doing with that? You told us it had been classified."

His eyes were wide with horror for half a minute. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, running his hands over his face. SHIT. This was never supposed to happen. This was the last thing he ever thought could happen.

"It was. It is. Judge gave me limited access to some to try to find some leads. Apparently what's on there isn't even the worst of it."

"You've watched that? What they did? Everything they did? How could you do that to him? Damn it Chris, it's not bad enough he knows, but he's gonna know you saw it. Shit, probably thinks we all saw it. Chris this is gonna kill him. You saw his face."

He didn't know how to answer. He was spared having to by the arrival of Josiah and JD. "No." He stopped them before they could get in. "We have to talk. Nathan and Vin are with him, but we all have to talk. I screwed up – big time. We all did in not thinking this might happen, but I really screwed it. Any of you want to knock me senseless I won't stop you, but we have to put that on hold till we figure out how to fix this."

Nathan's voice came down from the doorway. "I don't think we can Chris. I've called for an ambulance. He's catatonic, barely breathing. Heart rate is damn near too fast to count, and I'm guessing is blood pressure would break the machine. He's shutting down guys. Vin can't reach him. I don't know that anything can."

 **m7-m7-m7-m7-m7-m7-m7-m7-m7-m7**

 _ **TBC**_


	7. Chapter 7

Hours later Ezra was settled back in his room, Vin still by his side. The medics had tried to check him over, but efforts to try to get to close resulted in a clear increase in anxiety. Vin was able to monitor his heart rate and could barely keep count when others came near. Dr. Starke was called out and reached the conclusion that transporting him would likely be worse than trying to care for him at the ranch. He was averse to prescribing any medications without a better understanding of Ezra's condition as it now stood. The side effects could be worse than the disorder. With Vin's encouragement they were able to get him settled with relatively minimal stress, but he remained completely unresponsive throughout. Chris's voice seemed to cause an increase in heart rates, as did Buck's, but without Vin monitoring there would have been no evidence of the stress.

When Ezra appeared to be asleep, Vin crept quietly from the room, going only as far as the hallway. Josiah saw the movement and stepped to the young man's side. "You need to take a few minutes for yourself Vin. You can't do this alone."

"He won't let anyone else in and he can't be alone."

"And you can't help him if you collapse. I'm not telling you to go home, I'm just asking that you take a few minutes. Get a cold drink, get a sandwich. Walk around the building a few times. Hell, go talk to the horses if it makes you feel better. But take a couple of minutes. I'll stay out here and call you the second it looks like he needs you."

Vin rolled his head from side to side, trying to loosen some of the stiffness. "I'll be on the deck."

He hadn't really noticed the sun had gone down. It was just barely still light out. He wasn't surprised to see the others sitting there. What did trouble him was how they were sitting. No two were close enough to be considered with another. Buck and Chris were at opposite ends, with JD on the steps below as if reluctant to appear he was taking sides. Nathan sat near the window, using the light from inside to review some information Dr. Starke had left. Vin shook his head, sighing angrily. He fought to keep his voice from cracking, and to keep himself from losing control.

"I do NOT have time or energy for any of this crap right now. I don't know who is pissed at who, who started it or why. I also to not give a rat's ass. That man in there is our friend, and we cannot afford to let our guilt, or anger, or anything else get in the way. Josiah is right. I can't do this again, not alone. It's too damn hard. I can't watch this again. Damn it Chris, Buck. I need you to keep me from going over the edge too, and you can't do this shit and still be there for me."

Nathan watched with a smile ghosting over his face as the warriors dropped their stance and immediately were at Vin's side. Settling him to the comfortable chair the looked at each other with a cross between regret and shame. "Couple of pretty stupid cowboys aren't we?" Chris grinned slightly. "Buck, you know I hate being called a cowboy." "If the boot fits pal."

JD all but jumped up the stairs. "You sit tight Vin – I'll make you some supper." Seeing the man start to shake his head he stomped his foot slightly. "Look dammit, you just finished saying we gotta take care of you so you can take care of Ez. So I am going to make you a sandwich are you are going to eat every bite of it. And you're getting a glass of milk too." He marched into the house. Buck rubbed his hand over his moustache, trying to keep the laughter from escaping.

"Well, he told you didn't he."

"You yell at us; he yells at you. When did I lose control of this team?" Chris asked.

Nathan answered. "When did you ever have it?"

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They sat out on the deck again, closer now, more like the team they were. An intercom had been set up to Ezra's room and Nathan kept one ear tuned to that for the slightest signs of change. Vin listened too.

He hadn't been lying when he told them he was near the edge. It had been hard enough watching Ezra go through all of this before. Seeing the agony on his face when they first found him, holding him till he passed out from shock, pain and exhaustion. Watching his struggle with the hurt as he slowly began to heal. As he fought to regain consciousness, then fought even more to regain his sense of self. And there was progress. The physical improvement was stunning, even if his speech and mood did not always keep pace.

They could see the depression Ezra tried so hard to keep hidden. The fear and the uncertainty about his future. No one wanted to discuss it. No one was ready to take that step into the unknown. Vin deeply regretted that now. He was certain that it was those questions, those unknowns, that had driven Ezra to search the office. He may not have been looking for his own case – Vin doubted he was even aware he had his own case – but he was looking for something. Something familiar, a way to fit in again. He'd found far more than he'd bargained for.

They were quiet, each coming to terms with the day's events. Chris thought about the video. He'd spent hours convincing the judge he needed to see it, at least part of it, too understand what had happened. Finally, the Judge relented, releasing some sections for review. They weren't the worst – the team would never see that if he had any say in the matter, but they were bad enough. While the scars had left little to the imagination, the video certainly filled in those blanks. The verbal abuse equally vicious as they did their utmost to shatter not just body and mind, but spirit.

In one of the most difficult decisions of his life, Chris had decided that now they all needed to see the video. To see, even briefly, what it was that had sent Ezra over the edge. He turned it off again after less than a minute. Not one of the team members was without tears, but none had left the room. JD was sure he'd be throwing up later, and suspected he wasn't alone in that, but right now, they all held it together. They knew Ezra would see their grief and anger as pity or worse, and that could not be allowed happen. They were going to be stoic about this, and likely each have their own private breakdowns later on.

They agreed with Vin's interpretation of why Ezra had entered the office, but that didn't help solve the problem.

"What were we supposed to do Vin?" Buck's frustration was evident. "Couldn't exactly turn around and ask him what it was all about, could we?"

"Course not, but we shut him out. We should have seen he needed to be more involved in something – in anything. Ezra is not good at doing nothing. Hell, none of us are."

"But Nathan kept telling us he wasn't ready." JD turned quickly. "Not blaming you, just saying."

"I know JD, and I still think I was right when it came to the case. But Vin nailed it. Ezra needed to be more involved with us. We've been mollycoddling him – and yes, that is mostly my fault – and the last thing that man wants is pity."

"No Nathan. The last thing he wants is to be a burden." All eyes turned to Josiah. "Think about it. We're all a little over the top when it comes to self-sufficiency, but have any of you ever seen anyone less prone to ask for help when he most needs it? Sure, Ez will complain about the little things, and play up his role as the pampered gentleman, but when it comes down to real issues, the important stuff, he never asks."

"Why?'

"If I had to guess Buck, I'd say it has a lot to do with the way he was raised. Maude was not exactly the most nurturing of mothers, and he was conditioned from an early age not to count on her, on anyone, to help him. He lived outside of anything close to a normal family set-up, and was trained that being sneaky and conniving was the way to get ahead. Don't imagine he ever really learned the idea of trust, or of being trusted. Add into that the way he got treated in Atlanta when the rumors started about him being on the take…Well, ain't too hard to see why he keeps to himself so much."

"We don't always help with that. At least I know I don't." Chris admitted. "Spent a lot of time, especially at the beginning, double checking almost everything he said. I always knew he was the best undercover man I'd ever seen, but somehow I took that to think he was less than trustworthy."

"Guilty of the same thing myself." Nathan added. "He was so smug, so full of himself. Made it hard to get to know him."

"That would have been on purpose too." Vin joined in. "You reject others before they can reject you. Defense mechanism."

"But couldn't he see we were past that? That we didn't' see him that way?"

"No Buck, he couldn't. Because he doesn't think he deserves it. Doesn't think he fits in, anywhere. Least of all not with people he respects. He's ashamed of what happened to him because he thinks it lowers him in our eyes. He's got us on some damned pedestal as being more righteous, or more honourable or just plain better people than he is."

"Well that's a load of bull."

"Yeah JD, it is. But how do we convince him of that?"

Chris looked up at his men with enormous pride and affection. Every one of them was ready to do whatever it took to bring the stray back into their circle. This wasn't a team, this was a family, and the time had come to reunite them.

"We tell him. No pussyfooting around it, no subtly. We flat out tell him what we think. We apologize for all the times we were too stupid to see we were hurting him, ignoring him. We make sure he knows that we are damned lucky, and damned proud to have him on the team."

"Sounds good in theory Chris, but it's not that easy. When I talked to Dr. Starke he wasn't even sure we'd be able to get through to Ezra again. He's withdrawn back into his own world. He wasn't ready to remember, at least not like that. It did more than scare him. He was beyond mortified by it. Cut him right to his soul."

"You know what I don't get?" Buck looked around at the others. "When we found him, he seemed ok. Well, not OK, but not so shattered, inside I mean. He was confused, and obviously busted up, but there was a sense of relief when he realized it was us, that he was safe. Then a couple minutes later he just fell apart." He turned to Nathan. "Was that shock, or adrenaline, or what?"

JD answered instead. "Probably that FBI bastard."

Chris snapped around. "What d'ya mean."

"You saw it. He shut down when Taylor and Reed burst in and started accusing him selling them out. That was when he passed out."

"Shit. I am gonna find those sons of…"

"Buck settle down. Can't help Ezra if you're in jail for assaulting a Fed."

"Vin's right." Chris said. He was furious with himself that he hadn't put the timing together. "Don't worry – I'll make sure they're dealt with." They all smiled for the first time in the discussion. Anyone who was on the wrong side of a Chris Larabee grudge was going to live to regret it.

"Why would he assume just because a couple of feds…?

Vin thought back on the moment before realizing what had happened. "He didn't know who it was. I just told him we were all in the room with him, then he hears the accusation. He thinks one of us, all of us accused him. What's worse, I think he believes it."

The silence was oppressive as they registered the significance of that simple statement.

"Do you think that's why he can't talk properly now?" They looked at JD. "I mean, if he thinks he talked then, said things he shouldn't. You know, thinks he betrayed us, maybe he thinks at some level he shouldn't be allowed to talk anymore." He looked down self-consciously as they stared in stunned silence. "Yeah, guess that was a stupid idea. Should leave all the analyzing stuff to the experts."

"Oh, on the contrary JD – I think you've reasoned it out perfectly." Vin shook his head. He had been so focused on the problem he had really forgotten to look at the whole picture.

"Could it really be that simple Nathan?" Chris found his own voice again.

"Hardly simple Chris. If JD's right, and I'll bet a year's salary he's got most of it figured, then Ezra has seriously worked himself into a state. We're going to have to find a way to convince him he's wrong. That we never doubted him. Given how this all went down, I don't see that being easy. Especially since he doesn't seem to be in a position to even hear us now."

"Anybody got ideas?"

There were several moments of silence as they examined their options, finding no answers. Finally, with a tired sigh, Josiah spoke. "Determination, and most likely a great deal of patience."

7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7

Ezra stared out the window, watching first light of dawn slowly appear. He hadn't moved after realizing he was not alone in the room. At first it was from fear, not knowing for certain who had invaded his space. It took several minutes for him to realize that he was in a safe environment. The soft snore was Vin, once again standing, or in this case, sitting vigil.

How had things reached this state? He was almost free and now, here he was again, bedridden and trapped. Almost immediately images leapt to his mind of the photos and video he had seen. He bit down hard on his lip to block the desire to scream out. A moment later he had the faint taste of blood in his mouth, threatening to turn his stomach. Forcing himself past the moment, he tried to move to other thoughts, but the sounds and sights would not recede.

He began to tremble as the sensations came back. He remembered it all. The force of the beatings, the sting of the whip, the pain of the violations. The taunting, badgering questions and insults ran through his head. He was crooked, corrupt, worthless. No one was coming to help him. This could all end if he just told them what he needed to know. He might as well, no one cared whether he lived or died. He tried to remember what he'd said in response, what he'd told them. He could hear his own voice answering them, but not what he had said. He could not recall who he had betrayed. And it was for nothing, as the torture continued. He'd actually been relieved to see the gun pointed at his end, finally ready to end the suffering. This time they would not be able to revive him, as they had in the past. One bullet to the brain, and this was done.

He'd almost wept when he heard the shot and realized he was alive. They had tormented him yet again. It was a moment before he realized there were other shots. Other people in the room, reaching for him again. But this was different. This was calming, soothing. The yelling stopped, the room quieted until one voice came through the fog. It couldn't be. They had come for him? After what he had done, they had come for him?

Of course – they had come to take him away. To finish the job. They had come because it was their obligation to arrest criminals, and he had made a deal with those particular devils. Still, that didn't feel like what was happening. They were helping him. Gently, cautiously easing him out of his confusion and encouraging him to come back. It made no sense. But there they were. Vin, Josiah, telling him they were all there. They were going to get him through this. He had a moment where he allowed himself to believe this was over.

Then he heard it. They were yelling at him again. Accusing him of betraying them, betraying the law. People were hurt, plans were destroyed. He had broken his oath. He had failed. Again.

A soft sob broke from him as he came back to the present. He turned away from the window, making the effort to rise, hoping to run, and realizing instantly he had no strength to see it through.

Movement on the bed brought Vin up from the recliner he'd been resting on. The nightlight in the hall added to light from the window provided more than enough visibility to the room to allow him to see green eyes looking toward the door.

"You back with us Pard? No, don't turn away from me. Ez, come on, I know you are hearing me, now you need to listen to me. You have got nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed about. You have done NOTHING wrong."

Ezra tried to burrow down further in the bed, and it was all Vin could do to restrain himself from physically pulling him back to a seated state. If he could not keep patience with the man, how would Chris and Buck handle it?

Well, Chris had said no subtly, so here goes. He'd been thinking of little else beyond this speech. "Do you trust me? Do you trust us?"

He was floored by the question. How absurd. Of course he did. There in was the problem. These were men on honour, while he…well, he apparently was not. He composed himself enough to provide a small nod. Vin all but leapt for joy at getting a reaction, however minimal.

"On anything that mattered – anything important, have you ever known one of us to be less than completely honest with you. No matter how hard it was to say, or hear?"

He didn't even have to stop to think about it. Never once had he doubted these men. Puzzled over their acceptance of him, yes. Wondered about why they chose to include him on the team, in their lives, definitely. But never had he doubted their honesty. With movement of his head, he again answered the question.

"So why can't you believe me now when I say that you have done nothing wrong? And when I promise you we never for a minute thought you did? Never. Not one of us."

Ezra forced himself to look up at Vin. There was no hiding the sincerity on his face, the emotion in his eyes. "B-b-but…"

"No buts Son." Josiah's voice came softly from the door, and when he looked over, Ezra saw the whole team standing quietly there. "The Feds may have been stupid enough to think like that, at least till Chris set them straight, but not one of us had any doubts. We know you too well to believe it. Question is, do you?"

He took his time to allow his gaze to take in each of the men standing there. Watching him. Waiting for him to answer. He could almost see them leaning forward, straining as if they had to reach in for the answer. While he could not fathom for a moment a single reason they should care so much, it struck him forcibly that they did. And he knew, despite what he thought of himself right now, that he owed it to them to at least try to give them what they appeared to so desperately want.

"I c-c-can try."

 **M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7**

 _ **tbc**_


	8. Chapter 8

It was late that afternoon before there was any significant sign of activity in the room again. The weary agent had been left to sleep, to rest as best as possible. The monitor remained in place, but other than some soft snoring and the occasional mumble words, the room had been quiet.

No one had gone into the office, but they had not been inactive. The first step had been to lock away the files regarding the case. They weren't going to hide anything from Ezra, but they weren't going to have it as a constant reminder either. Chris was going to be a long time in forgiving himself for being so careless as to trigger the memories in the manner that had unfolded.

They then set about going through case reports on recent operations, and upcoming ones. The goal was to find ways Ezra would be able to contribute, either by using his contacts or his instincts. There had been more than a few occasions that his unique perspective on the things gave insight the others had missed. That contribution would be welcomed again. The only member of the team not involved in the project was Vin, who was, for the first time in weeks, getting a restful sleep.

As they were packing up for the day, starting to think about dinner, sounds came from the monitor. It took only a moment to conclude that Ezra was making the effort to join them, probably trying first to make himself presentable.

"Do we go help him?" Buck whispered, as he tiptoed closer to the monitor. Chris grinned at the image.

"He can't hear you through that thing Buck." The big man had the grace to look embarrassed. "Sounds like he's doing alright, but you stay here and keep listening." He finished closing the file cabinet before turning back. "The rest of you can get into the kitchen and figure out side dishes. I'm gonna get the barbeque started. Think this is a steak dinner kind of night."

"M-m-make mine well d-d-done please." Ezra appeared with the benefit of just the one cane, and worked his way over to a seat. "M-m-might I t-t-talk with you first."

"Go ahead Chris - I'll get the 'Q started." Buck placed a gentle hand on Ezra's shoulder as he walked past. The others followed, all wearing ridiculously large grins. Nathan had made what he thought was an inconspicuous attempt to turn off the monitor without letting their comrade know of its existence, but one look from the man showed that to be a futile gesture. Still, the look held no anger, only appreciation, flavoured with a hint of "never try to con a con man".

"Want the door closed?" Chris asked before sitting. Doing so after the affirming nod, he pulled his chair closer.

Having neither energy nor desire to prolong his self-doubt concerns, he cut directly. "What d-d-did I t-t-tell W-wa… them?"

"Not a damn thing."

"n-not p-p-possible."

"I've seen some of the video, we all have." Ezra turned his head away at this revelation. They knew. They all knew. Chris waited until he looked back. "I've seen more than the others have, but not all of it." He took a deep breath. This was going to be the hardest part for the man to hear. "Holliman - the FBI agent in charge has seen all of it."

If he'd eaten anything that day, he would have thrown up. As it was, he fully expected to pass out as he felt the blood drain from his head. That anyone had to watch it was humiliating. But for the witnesses to be from FBI, the very organization that most distrusted him, was crushing. Chris's hand on his arm helped steady his emotions.

"Would you like to know what he said to me after?" There was a firmly negative shake of the head. He had no desire to hear the snide comments that would be forthcoming, and couldn't imagine why anyone would think he would.

"Too bad. He said that it was the worst thing he'd ever had to do, and at the same time the most powerful display of bravery he'd ever witnessed. Said he was sorry the Bureau had been stupid enough to let you go. And, he's put you in for a medal of valour. Now you tell me, is any of that something you need to be ashamed of?"

The younger man just stared at him.

"I don't know how to make this any clearer to you Ezra. What you went through was seven kinds of hell, and we all know that. Nobody wanted to see any of that video, but until we knew what you had to deal with, we didn't know how to help you. And we want to – need to help you. You are part of this team, and nothing is changing that."

He finally found his voice again. "D-d-damaged goods."

"God Damn It Ezra – knock it off. Yeah, you're hurt, and have a lot of healing still ahead of you. And not just physical. But if you think for a second that's gonna scare us off, well you ain't been paying attention. Contrary to what you seem to think, not one of us comes even close to perfect. So you being a bit off, well that just makes you part of the family. Understood?"

For the first time in what seemed like forever, Chris caught of a glimpse of that gold tooth, as Ezra smiled.

Dinner had been a bit awkward at first. Buck had to restrain himself from cutting Ezra's meat, and JD watched every swallow at first for fear the man would choke. But a low growl from Vin, and glare from Chris brought the others in line. "Wonderful" Ezra thought to himself, "My own guard dogs."

A few beers later everyone had relaxed considerably. Nathan had even been persuaded, thanks to additional glares and growls, to allow Ezra a half glass of beer himself. The reaction was worth the risk, as a wide grin spread over his face. "N-n-nectar."

He tired quickly as the evening went on. The team had made every effort to update him on the activities and events missed in recent weeks, trying to ensure him that their lives had not been put on hold. He was not so naïve as to fail to notice many of the exploits predated his ordeal, and were really just cover. They were determined he not feel guilty about any of this, and he was equally determined to keep them happy. He eventually dozed off in his chair, hearing the voices from afar as the laughter continued. Buck was telling some tail of his latest efforts to date the young woman who had moved into his apartment a few months earlier. "She seems to doubt my sincerity, but I keep telling her I can take real good care of her." An unusually loud burst of laughter that followed brought him startled back to the present.

"Dang – didn't mean to wake you up."

"Quite all…right." They could see the confused look and waited to see if there was more coming.

"C-c-Chris. Was there an…other agent under c-c-c-cover?"

"No, just you. If there had been, we'd have been in to get you sooner. You know that right?" Ezra dismissed the concern with a wave of his hand.

"I heard s-s-someone. T-t-talking to W-w- him."

"What makes you think it was another agent?"

"Know the v-v-voice. What he s-s-said. T-t-t-take c-c-c-care of me. Heard it wh-wh-when you f-f-f-found m-m-m-me." He was getting agitated as the memory became clearer, and the level of concern rose rapidly in the room.

"Slow down, calm down."

"N-No. He was–was–was there."

Chris and Buck looked as each other, each replaying the scene in their mind. It was a moment in time neither would ever forget. Chris almost whispered the memory "He said 'We'll take care of him'."

Buck exploded. "Reed? It was Reed you heard then, and before? Ezra are you sure? He's a senior operative in the Bureau. Are you sure?"

"You d-d-don't b-b-believe…"

"No Ezra, we believe you – we trust you. But Ez, you'd been through hell. They're gonna say you're confused."

"No, they won't." Chris looked determined. "We already have circumstantial on him, but nobody was ready to make accusations without facts. Now we have a witness to corroborate. And from some of our conversations, I think Holliman has his suspicions too."

"Then we got him. We got the bastard." Buck grinned widely. "When do we to do the bust?" He sounded like a kid asking to open his Christmas present early.

"Oh God no. We are not going near this one." Chris was emphatic. The cries of objections echoed in the room. "In the first place, we don't have the authority. This was an FBI op right from the start."

"But it was our man that got hurt." JD protested.

"And theirs. This guy betrayed a lot of men. Second, we have to play this totally by the book. No chance of any technicalities screwing things up."

"We can do by the book." Buck growled.

"Since when?" Nathan grinned at him to soften the comment, but got another growl as response.

"And last, and far and away most important; not one of us, me included, will have the self-control to avoid knocking this guy into next week"

"Next month" Buck corrected

"Next year" Vin added.

"Hell, most likely kill him if he hiccups." Nathan concurred.

Chris sighed. "So, we stay away from him."

"Ezra deserves to have a shot at him." JD pouted slightly.

"And I sh-shall. In c-c-court." Ezra was breathing heavily, but had started to calm down.

Josiah knelt beside his chair. "You OK Son?" He got a tired smile in response. "Think I w-will b-be n-n-now.

 **M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7**

 _ **TBC**_


	9. Chapter 9

Six months after going undercover, Ezra Standish walked back into the ATF offices once again. The slight limp still appeared only when he was tired, so for the moment at least he appeared to be fully recovered. He held his head high, trying not to let the uncertainty in his heart show on his face.

That he was welcomed, even wanted here, he did not question. During the last couple of months of his recovery, the team had never missed an opportunity to show him that. They had sought him out for advice on everything from the latest case to the latest love interest. When he announced he was quite done with ranch life for a while there had been only minimal arguing, mostly from Nathan, about whether it was time to go home. He was thankful when they relented, until they began making daily visits to his home. Dropping by with dinner, dropping in to ask a quick question. Delivering groceries. He had enough food now to open a restaurant. Coming by to watch a football game. When Josiah arrived one afternoon to find the locks had been changed, they took the hint.

But even with the support, the time had been difficult. Physiotherapy on his hand and legs continued and often was the cause of anger, tension and depression. He made remarkable progress, but sessions were painful and frustrating, and many days he was not certain the effort was a worthwhile one. He was initially convinced that he would never regain the dexterity he'd so enjoyed, and believed as a result any chance of returning to his role as lawman was doomed.

His friends showed infinite patience through his many struggles, but quickly lost that cool every time he threatened to give up. He was repeatedly subjected to lectures (Josiah and Vin), cajoling (Nathan and Buck), begging (JD) and threats (Chris). They created a formidable force in the ongoing challenge to spur him on.

And when, after he finally realized they were leaving him no choice in the matter, he progressed to the point of sitting down for a long overdue poker night, all of the exasperation and dejection was forgotten. He was thrilled to discover his dealing was fine, even if shuffling still left a little to be desired. Nevertheless, he was pleased to take their money, and they were almost as happy to lose to him.

Scars, at least the visible ones, were mostly faded now. He could see them when he stepped out of the shower and scrutinized himself in the mirror. He'd avoided the reflection for weeks, until deciding his imagination was likely worse than reality. He was not yet convinced he was right about that, but was learning to live with the situation.

The nightmares, while not gone, were also fading, become less frequent and intense. In the beginning they'd been brutal. As more memories came back he relived every moment of the horror and humiliation. The others tried to find the right way to respond, and failed nearly as often as they succeeded. Soon they learned the best course of action based on how he awoke. If he'd been tossing and turning, talking in his sleep, they let him sleep through it. In the morning, they stayed close, but not smothering, and most of the time he was himself by the time breakfast ended.

Other nights he awoke screaming, and little could calm him. None of them could get close without sending him into hyperventilation. All they could do was set up a chair in the hallway, close enough he knew they were there, without infringing on his space. The next morning, he would pretend nothing had happened. After several nights of that cycle, Nathan approached Ezra in private.

"Don't st-st-start." The southerner warned before Nathan even opened his mouth. "I don't n-n-need to t-t-t-talk to the c-c-councillor, or anyone else again." A sure sign of his exhaustion was the worsening of the stammering.

"You're not sleeping, you're not dealing with this. You can't get better if you don't work past this."

"I am w-w-working through it. There is no n-n-need for me to do that in p-p-p-public."

"Damn it Ezra – we are not 'public'! We are your friends, and you're not letting us help."

"On the c-c-c-contrary. You are all m-m-more help than you c-c-can ever imagine. I w-w-would not be here w-w-without your assistance."

Nathan looked at him, fearing there was more in that statement than he heard. After a moment he found the way to ask a question that he dreaded the answer to.

"You're not talking about the fact we found you in that warehouse – are you?"

Ezra looked away, unable to hold eye contact. After some time he spoke very quietly.

"No."

"That's why you won't let me give you sleeping pills – afraid of what you might do knowing there was a bottle around?"

"I cannot d-d-d-deny that it has cr-crossed my m-m-mind."

"Crossing it isn't the same as taking up residence there." There was no response, so Nathan reached out an took Ezra hand. He didn't speak until they had once again made eye contact. "I don't believe for a minute that you are capable of killing yourself Ezra. Not for a minute. Know why?" Still no response. "Not because you are stronger than that – even though you are. And not because you will not let the bastards who did this to you win, even though you won't. No – you won't take the pills, or use one of a dozen or so weapons you could find around here to kill yourself for one simple reason. There is no way you would run out on us like that. Not your nature. Not your style. You simply could never hurt your friends – your family – by doing something like that. So – I am not the least bit worried about that."

"But you are w-w-worried?"

"That you're not taking care of yourself. That you're not letting yourself be vulnerable in front of us. Not a man here thinks you are weak Ezra. Good God man, we have a pretty good idea of what happened to you, and it tears every one of us apart. Not out of disappointment or pity or even guilt, although there was a fair bit of that going around."

"Why would you f-f-feel guilty?"

"We all hurt over how long it took us to find you, to get in there and stop all this from happening. Shouldn't have let you in alone in the first place. Chris is still kicking himself something awful over agreeing to the whole arrangement in the first place."

"The d-d-decision was mine. I c-c-could have said n-no."

"But you wouldn't. You like – no, you need to prove yourself. Or least ways you think you do."

"N-n-nevertheless, he should not feel g-guilty."

"So talk to him about it."

"Perhaps I sh-shall."

"Can tell you what he'll say. He'll stop feeling guilty when you stop feeling weak. Not a challenge, just a fact. He sees you like this and it just makes it worse for him."

"Th-th-that is not fair."

"Maybe, but it's true."

"So I m-m-must recover for him to d-d-do so as well?" Nathan nodded. "Well, I b-b-best refocus my en-en-energy."

"Sounds like a plan Ezra."

A few days after that he did manage to bring himself to sit down with Chris for a lengthy chat about accountability, guilt, obligations and appropriate responses. Both came away a little red-eyed but quite satisfied with the outcome. The change in both men was apparent to the rest of the team, and a quiet collective sigh of relief was released.

Nothing changed overnight, and there remained times Ezra needed to be alone along with the times he desperately needed to be almost surrounded by the others, but he no longer jumped at unexpected phone calls or visitors and, to his immense relief, could ultimately hear the phrase 'take care of it' without suffering palpitations.

Most gratifying of all in his recovery was the return of his speech. Granted, when tired or agitated, there were moments with the stutter reappeared, but that too was becoming nothing more than an unpleasant memory. He had waited until he was able to speak smoothly before calling his mother. Chris had told him of her inability to free herself from commitments to come when he was injured, and tried to assure him that she had been kept informed of his progress.

"Nonsense Chris. She wouldn't be inconvenienced by making the attempt to extricate herself from an ongoing financial venture to face the possibility of being required to take the responsibility to tend to her only offspring. If you think such a revelation staggers or wounds me, you are sorely mistaken. I would indeed be more that astonished to hear of any other conclusion." Chris had no response to this, wishing he could deny the truth of the observation. "Do not concern yourself Chris. I knew I was not alone."

Maude had continued to try to justify herself throughout the call, stating clearly she hadn't been needed since he had obviously fully recovered. And, since he has chosen such a high risk and unprofitable career, she did not feel obliged to drop everything for the slightest issue. He'd managed to make it through the call to his mother without stuttering once, in large part because she no longer seemed to be able to trigger any emotional response whatsoever in him.

The last significant relapse had been a couple of weeks later when the team had come by to report on the final stage of the case. Arresting officers found Agent Reed with his gun still in his hand, the back of his head gone. On examination , it became apparent some of his fellow FBI officers had failed to be circumspect in their investigation, and hours before the arrest was to take place, Reed had determined he had been found out. He chose the cowards solution. There had been no note, no confession of his guilt or exoneration of Ezra.

"S-s-so it's n-n-not over. I am st-still a s-s-s-suspect in this?

"No Ezra. It's over. You were never a suspect. Remember, you were cleared any wrongdoing."

"B-b-but if there is no t-t-trial Chris.'

"Press releases are already out saying he was a crooked cop Ezra. Sayin' he's the one on Walker's payroll."

"Another press release came out today too. Probably won't get the same attention, since the media seems to prefer bad news over good." Nathan was smiling. He pulled a sheet from his pocket.

"Ah Nathan – you ain't gonna read the whole thing are you? You'll put the man to sleep." Buck grabbed the paper away. "Look Ez – all you need to know from this is that due to your," he scanned for the phrase, "exemplary behaviour in adverse conditions, and extreme bravery and demonstration of the principles of the FBI" he snorted slightly "– yeah principles". Chris swatted him. "Keep reading"

"Right. Blah blah blah, official nonsense. OK – here you go. 'The FBI Medal for Meritorious Achievement, the FBI Shield of Bravery, and the FBI Medal of Valor are awarded to former FBI and current AFT agent Ezra Standish'."

"Three?" It was all the others could do not to burst out laughing at the stunned look the saw. Never before had his poker face failed him so thoroughly.

"Told you that they were nominating you."

"Yes, b-b-but three?"

"Face it Pard – you're a hero. Now, the downside in all of this is that they aren't releasing your picture with any of this."

"No, of c-c-course. Security."

"Nah. They don't want to be the ones to compromise any future undercover activities."

They watched closely for a reaction, but the poker face had recovered. "That is a f-f-foolish concern."

"Nobody's saying it will happen tomorrow Ezra, but we aren't ruling it out either. We can talk on it when you're back at work." Not 'if' – never 'if'. Always 'when' he was back at work.

That day had finally arrived. He opened door to the bullpen at 9:30, half an hour late, but still earlier than anyone would have expected.

JD was the first to look up. "Well it's 'bout time you showed up. Chris has been out here three times looking for you."

"Our fearless leader should know better than to anticipate my arrival any earlier than this. Good Lord, has he forgotten my habitual proclivities already. After such a brief absence?"

"Guess he was hoping you might have had a change of heart – what with being a hero and all."

"It will take more than the bestowing of some simple tokens to encourage me to remove myself from the comforts of home and a feather bed a moment before necessary. You know I abhor mornings."

"Well, now that's a damn shame, since that's when we start work around here." Chris stepped out of his office after making sure the smile had been erased from his face. God, it was good to see them all here again.

"Aren't you supposed to have something with you Ezra?" Nathen queried.

"No sir, I have been assured by my physiotherapist, a man _licensed_ in the care for my injuries" he winked at Nathan "that the irritant of a cane is no longer a requirement for my mobility, and as such I elect to leave it behind."

"You know I'm going to follow up on that?"

"Of course. I told him to expect your call."

"Hey Ez?" He turned to JD. "What did you do with those 'simple tokens' you got?"

He went unusually quiet. It had been difficult to accept the awards from the Bureau, for any number of reasons. Seeing them in his home reminded him of the nightmare he'd suffered. But they also served as tangible proof as to just how far he'd come in not just his recovery, but the recovery of his reputation. He remained torn as to whether they should be displayed with honour, or buried somewhere in a drawer with the related unpleasant memories.

"I have not fully ascertained the optimal format for the presentation of the items in question."

"You could bring them in here you know." Chris offered in a quiet voice. "They'd look mighty good on the conference room wall. We may even have one or two other commendations we could put up there. Our own wall of honour."

They knew for all his showmanship, Ezra really was not all that fond of being the centre of attention, especially when much deserved praise was involved. He still had a way to go in accepting his worth in such matters. Chris hoped the idea of putting some of the other commendations the team had received, as individuals and as a unit, might mitigate some of the attention and make the idea a little more palatable.

Ezra wasn't able to look any of them in the eye. "I think Chris, that would be an ideal solution. I could never have been even considered worthy of those recognitions without the support of all of you, and sharing the awards is extremely fitting."

 _"_ Well," Vin said, looking at the others, "at least he acknowledged he was worthy of them, sort of. It's a start".

Chris coughed to disguise the catch in his voice. "Well, ok then. Now, do you all think we might consider getting a bit of work done today? Everybody to the conference room. We've got a meeting." Groans came from all the desks.

"Really Mr. Larabee. You find that a suitable fashion in which to mark my return? For shame sir."

The others headed over, leaving Ezra and Chris to take up the rear. Chris spoke quietly. "You sure you're ready for this?"

"As I shall ever be. I have been told to take things one day at a time, and to accept the support and assistance of my friends. I shall endeavour to do so."

"Sounds good."

Ezra froze for a second as he entered the room. The first thing he noticed was that there were a few more bodies in there than just the team. It looked like half the local ATF office was there, along with Judge Travis. Balloons and streamers littered the space and a banner covered the wall – 'Welcome back Ez'. No one had shouted 'Surprise!'. There was no need to.

Buck's voice boomed out. "The big shots at the FBI would have been here too, 'cept they weren't invited." JD grinned like a 10-year-old. "So, guess you were surprised. Told you we could surprise him."

The Judge walked over to him. "I wanted to let you know, on behalf of the ATF, that we are beyond pleased to have you back at work. We have had confirmation that you have been approved for a full return to duties. That includes, if you choose, further undercover operations.' He paused when he saw the look in his Agent's eyes. "That call will be entirely up to you – when you are ready. Regardless of what choice you make, you will always be a member of this team."

Ezra tried to speak past the lump in his throat, and a whispered "thank you" was all that he managed. He tried to recover his poker face, with what he feared was limited success. "Gentlemen – friends. While deeply appreciated, such an extravagance was hardly necessary."

"Oh shut Ez. We wanted a party and we're having one."

He looked around at his friends – his family, and then once again at the banner on the wall. "Seriously though gentlemen. Ez – RA. Two simple letters. Is it truly that challenging?"

 **M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7**

 **THE END - for now.**

 _I probably should have said this earlier: I am not a doctor – I do not play one on television. However, as I have spent an inordinate amount of my childhood and subsequent years watching Marcus Welby, Medical Centre and ER, I do have what I refer to as TV-MD status. That being said, please note that all medical references in this story came from a dangerous combination of the above mentioned programs and Google Search. If you have concerns, take two aspirin and email me in the morning._

 _THANK YOU ALL for reading, and for the reviews! So glad to know there is still interest in this show and the fabulous characters that lived in that world (and the subsequently AU created ones!). Thrilled to know you think I got these guys right._


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